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Stories from the 

Faerie Queene 




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Gbat bat) atcbtevoe so great a conquest bg bts migbt." 

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Introduction 



THE object of this volume is to excite interest 
in one of the greatest poems of English litera- 
ture, which for all its greatness is but little read and 
known — to excite this interest not only in young per- 
sons who are not yet able to read " The Faerie Queene," 
with its archaisms of language, its distant ways and 
habits of life and thought, its exquisite melodies that 
only a cultivated ear can catch and appreciate, but 
also in adults, who, not from the lack of ability, but 
because they shrink from a little effort, suffer the 
loss of such high and refined literary pleasure as the 
perusal of Spenser's masterpiece can certainly give. 



Introduction 

Assuredly, when all that cavillers can say or do is 
said and done, "The Faerie Queene " is deservedly 
called one of the greatest poems of English literature. 
From the high place it took, and took with acclama- 
tion, when it first appeared, it has, in fact, never been 
deposed. It has many defects and imperfections, such 
as the crudest and most commonplace critic can dis- 
cover, and has discovered with much self-complacency ; 
but it has beauties and perfections that such critics 
very often fail to see ; and, so far as the status of 
" The Faerie Queene " is concerned, it is enough for 
the ordinary reader to grasp the significant fact that 
Spenser has won specially for himself the famous 
title of " the poets' poet." Ever since his star ap- 
peared above the horizon, wise men from all parts 
have come to worship it ; and amongst these devotees 
fellow-poets have thronged with a wonderful enthu- 
siasm. In one point all the poetic schools of England 
have agreed together, viz., in admiration for Spenser. 
From Milton and Wordsworth on the one hand to 
Dryden and Pope — from the one extreme of English 
poetry to the other — has prevailed a perpetual reverence 
for Spenser. The lights in his temple, so to speak, 
have never been extinguished — never have there been 
wanting offerers of incense and of praise ; and, to 
repeat in other words what has already been said, as 
it is what we wish to specially emphasise, amidst this 
faithful congregation have been many who already 
had or were some day to have temples of their own. 
We recognise amongst its members not only the great 
poets already mentioned, but many others of the 



Introduction 

divine brotherhood, some at least of whom rank with 
the greatest, such as Keats, Shelley, Sidney, Gray, 
Byron, the Fletchers, Henry More, Raleigh, Thomson, 
not to name Beattie, Shenstone, Warton, Earnefield, 
Peele, Campbell, Drayton, Cowley, Prior, Akenside, 
Roden Noel. To this long but by no means exhaus- 
tive list might be added many of high eminence in 
other departments of literature and of life, as Gibbon, 
Mackintosh, Hazlitt, Craik, Lowell, Ruskin, R. W. 
Church, and a hundred more. 

Now, of course, the acceptance of a poet is and 
must be finally due to his own intrinsic merits. No 
amount of testimonials from ever so highly distin- 
guished persons will make a writer permanently popu- 
lar if he cannot make himself so — if his own works 
do not make him so. Of testimonials there is very 
naturally considerable distrust — very naturally, when 
we notice what second-rate penmen have been and are 
cried up to the skies. But in the present case the 
character of the testifiers is to be carefully considered ; 
and, secondly, not only their words but their actions 
are to be taken into account. Many of our greatest 
poets have praised Spenser not only in formal phrases, 
but practically and decisively, by surrendering them- 
selves to his influence, by sitting at his feet, by taking 
hints and suggestions from him. He has been their 
master not merely nominally but actually, and with 
obvious results. If all traces of Spenser's fascination 
and power could be removed from subsequent English 
literature, that literature would be a very different 
thing from what it is : there would be strange breaks 



Introduction 

and blanks in many a volume, hiatuses in many a 
line, an altered turning of many a sentence, a modifi- 
cation of many a conception and fancy. And we are 
convinced that the more Spenser is studied the more 
remarkable will his dominance and his dominion be 
found to be. To quote lines that have been quoted 
before in this connection — 

" Hither, as to their fountain, other stars 
Repairing, in their urns draw golden light." 

"The Faerie Queene " is one of the great well- 
heads of English poetry ; or, in other words, Spenser's 
Faerie Land has been and is a favourite haunt of all 
our highest poetic spirits. 

And yet it is incontrovertible that this poem is 
very little known as a whole to most people. Every- 
body is familiar with the story of Una and the 
Lion, and with two or three stanzas of singular 
beauty in other parts of "The Faerie Oueen," because 
these occur in most or all books of selections : in 
every anthology occur those fairest flowers. But the 
world at large is content to know no more. The size 
of the poem appals it. "A big book is a big evil," it 
thinks, and it shudders at the idea of perusing the 
six twelve-cantoed books in which Spenser's genius 
expressed itself — expressed itself only in an incom- 
plete and fragmentary fashion, for many more books 
formed part of his enormous design. "Of the persons 
who read the first canto," says Macaulay in a famous 
Essay, "not one in ten reaches the end of the First 
Book, and not one in a hundred perseveres to the end 
of the poem. Very few and very weary are those who 



Introduction 

are in at the death of the Blatant Beast. If the last 

six books, which are said [without any authority] to 
have been destroyed in Ireland, had been preserved, 
we doubt whether any heart less stout than that of a 
commentator would have held out to the end." And 
Macaulay speaks truly as well as wittily. He is as 
accurate as Poins when Prince Hal asks him what he 
would think if the Prince wept because the King his 
father was sick. " I would think thee a most princely 
hypocrite," replies Poins. "It would be every man's 
thought," says the Prince: "and thou art a blessed 
fellow to think as every man thinks. Never a man's 
thought in the world keeps the roadway better than 
thine." Even so is Macaulay " a blessed fellow to 
think as every man thinks," and no doubt his blessed- 
ness in this respect is one of the characteristics — by 
no means the only one — that account for his wide- 
spread popularity. He not only states that people 
do not read " The Faerie Queen," but he shows that 
he himself, voracious reader — helluo librorum — as he 
was, had not done so, or had done so very carelessly ; 
for, alas ! the Blatant Beast, as at all events every 
student of the present volume will know, does not 
die ; Sir Calidore only suppresses him for a time ; he 
but temporarily ties and binds him in an iron chain, 
" and makes him follow him like a fearful dog ; " and 
one day long afterwards the beast got loose again — 

" Ne ever could by any, more be brought 
Into like bands, ne maystred any more, 
Albe that, long time after Calidore, 
The good Sir Pelleas him tooke in hand, 



Introduction 

And after him Sir Lamoracke of yore, 
And all his brethren borne in Britaine land ; 
Yet none of them could ever bring him into band. 

" So now he raungeth through the world againe, 
And rageth sore in each degree and state ; 
Ne any is that may him now restraine, 
He growen is so great and strong of late, 
Barking and biting all that him doe bate, 
Albe they worthy blame, or clear of crime ; 
Ne spareth he most learned v/its to rate, 
Ne spareth he the gentle Poets rime ; 

But rends without regard of person or of time." 

And Spenser goes on to declare that even his "homely 
verse of many meanest " cannot hope to escape " his 
venemous despite ; " for, in his own day, as often 
since, Spenser by no means found favour with every- 
body. Clearly even Macaulay's memory of the close of 
" The Faerie Queene" was sufficiently hazy. But even 
Milton, to whom Spenser was so congenial a spirit, 
and whom he acknowledged as his " poetical father," 
on one occasion at least forgets the details of the 
Spenserian story. When insisting in the Areopagitica 
that true virtue is not " a fugitive and cloistered 
virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies 
out and sees her adversary," but a virtue that has 
been tried and tested, he remarks that this "was the 
reason why our sage and serious poet Spenser, whom 
I dare be known to think a better teacher than Scotus 
or Aquinas, describing true temperance uncler the 
person of Guion, brings him in with his Palmer 
through the cave of Mammon and the bower of 



Introduction 

earthly bliss, that he may see, and know, and yet 
abstain." But the Palmer was not with Sir Guyon in 
the Cave of Mammon, Phasdria having declined to 
ferry him over to her floating island. See " The 
Faerie Queene," ii. 6, 19 : — 

" Himselfe [Sir Guyon] she tooke aboord, 
But the Black Palmer sufFred still to stond, 
Ne would for price or prayers once affoord 
To ferry that old man over the perlous foord. 

" Guyon was loath to leave his guide behind, 
Yet being entred might not back retyre ; 
For the flitt barke, obeying to her mind, 
Forth launched quickly as she did desire, 
Ne gave him leave to bid that aged sire 
Adieu." 

So Macaulay's lapse must not be regarded too 
severely, though, as may be seen, much more promi- 
nence is given by Spenser to the fact that the Blatant 
Beast was not killed, than to the absence of the 
Palmer from Guyon's side in Mammon's House. It 
seems probable, indeed, that Macaulay mixed up the 
fate of the Dragon in the eleventh canto of the First 
Book with that of the Blatant Beast in the twelfth of 
the Sixth. But we mention these things only to pre- 
vent any surprise at the general ignorance of Spenser, 
when such a confirmed book-lover as Macaulay, and 
such a devoted Spenserian as Milton, are found tripping 
in their*, allusions to his greatest work. 

Now this ignorance, however explicable, is, we 
think, to be regretted. A poet of such splendid attri- 



Introduction 

butes, and with such a choice company of followers, 
surely deserves to be better known than he is by " the 
general reader" ; and we trust that this volume may 
be of service in making the stories of " The Faerie 
Oueene " more familiar, and so in tempting the general 
reader to turn to Spenser's own version of them, and 
to appreciate his amazing affluence of language, of 
melody, and of fancy. 

Clearly, Spenser does not appeal to everybody at 
first ; we mean that to enjoy him fully needs some 
little effort to begin with — some distinct effort to put 
ourselves in communication with him, so to speak ; 
for he is far away from us in many respects. His 
costume and his accent are very different from ours. 
He does not seem to be of us or of our world. " His 
soul " is "like a star" : it dwells "apart." We have, 
it would appear at first sight, nothing in common with 
him : he moves all alone in a separate sphere — he is 
not of our flesh and blood. What strikes us at first 
sight is a certain artificiality and elaborateness, as we 
think. We cannot put ourselves on confidential terms 
with him ; he is too stately and point devise. His 
art rather asserts than conceals itself to persons who 
merely glance at him. But these impressions will be 
largely or altogether removed, if the reader will 
really read " The Faerie Queene" He will no longer 
think of its author as a mere phrase-monger, or only 
a dainty melodist, or the master of a superfine style. 
He will find himself in communion with a man of 
high intellect, of a noble nature — of great attraction, 
not only for his humanism, but for his humanity. To 



Introduction 

Spenser, Wordsworth's lines in " A Poet's Epitaph " 
may be applied with particular and profound truth : — 

" He is retired as noontide dew, 
Or fountain in a noonday grove ; 
And you must love him ere to you 
He will seem worthy of your love." 

The very opulence of Spenser's genius stands in 
the way of his due appraisement. There can scarcely 
be a doubt that if he could have restrained the re- 
dundant stream of his poetry, he might have been 
more worthily recognised. Had he written less, he 
would have been praised more ; as it is, with many 
readers, mole ruit sua : they are overpowered and 
bewildered by the immense flood. The waters of 
Helicon seem a torrent deluge. We say his popu- 
larity would have been greater, if he could have 
restrained and controlled this amazing outflow ; but, 
after all, we must take our great poets as we find 
them. In this very abundance, as in other ways, 
Spenser was a child of his age, and we must accept 
him with all his faults as well as with all his excellences. 
Both faults and excellences are closely inter-connected. 
II a les ddfauts de ses qualites. 

He said that Chaucer was his poetical master, and 
more than once he mentions Chaucer with the most 
generous admiration : — 

" Dan Chaucer, well of English undefyled, 
On Fames eternal beadroll worthy to be fyled." 

" That old Dan Geffrey, in whose gentle spright 
The pure well head of Poesie did dwellc ,, 
xv 



Introduction 

And Chaucer too may be said to suffer from a very 
plethora of wealth. Chaucer is apt to be super- 
abundant ; but yet he was a model of self-restraint 
as compared with Spenser. One cannot say in this 
case, " Like master, like man," or, " Like father, like 
son." Their geniuses are entirely different — a fact 
which makes Spenser's devotion to Chaucer all the 
more noticeable and interesting ; and the art of the 
one is in sharp contrast with the art of the other. 
Chaucer is a masterly tale-teller : no one in all English 
poetry equals him in this faculty ; he is as supreme 
in it as Shakespeare in the department of the drama. 
In his tales Chaucer is, " without o'erflowing, full." 
The conditions under which they were told bene- 
ficially bounded and limited them. Each is multum 
in parvo. They are very wonders of compression, 
and yet produce no sense of confinement or excision. 
Spenser could not possibly have set before himself a 
better exemplar ; but yet he so set him in vain. The 
contrast between the two poets, considered merely as 
narrators or story-tellers, is vividly exhibited in the 
third canto of the Fourth Book of " The Faerie 
Queene," where, after a reverent obeisance to his great 
predecessor, he attempts to tell the other half of the 
half-told story. 

" Of Canibuscan bold, 
Of Camball and of Algarsife, 
And who had Canace to wife, 
That owned the virtuous ring and glass, 
And of the wondrous horse of brass, 
On which the Tartar king did ride." 
xvi 



Introduction 

It is not without some misgiving that he adventures 
on such a daring task : — 

" Then pardon, O most sacred happie Spirit ! 
That I thy labours lost 1 may thus revive, 
And steale from thee the meede of thy due merit, 
That none durst ever whilest thou wast alive, 
And being dead in vain yet many strive. 
Ne dare I like ; but through infusion swete 
Of thine own Spirit which doth in me survive, 
I follow here the footing of thy feete, 

But with thy meaning so I may the rather meete." 

But it can scarcely be allowed either that he follows 
the footing of his master's feet, or that he caught the 
breath of his master's spirit. There are " diversities of 
operations " ; and Spenser's method and manner were 
not those of Chaucer, however sincere the allegiance he 
professed, and however sincere his intentions to tread 
in his footsteps and march along the same road. He 
wanted some gifts and some habits that are necessary 
for the perfect story-teller — gifts and habits which 
Chaucer, by nature or by discipline, possessed in a 
high degree, such as humour, concentration, realism. 
The very structure of " The Faerie Queene " is de- 
fective. It begins in the middle — at its opening it 
takes us in medias res, seemingly in accordance with 

1 Spenser thought that the latter Part or Parts of the " Squire's Tale " had 
actually been written but been lost — been "quite devoured" by "cursed eld," 
and "brought to nought by little bits," as he quaintly expresses it. But it 
may be taken as certain Chaucer left the tale as we have it, that is, " half told." 
The closing lines of what we have a;e clearly unrevised. For some reason or 
another— trouble or sickness, or his growing infirmity — what would have 
been one of the most brilliant works of the Middle Ages was never completed, 
and, like " Christabel " and "Hyperion," remains only a glorious fragment. 

xvii b 



Introduction 

the precedent of the Iliad or of the Aineid, but 
oniy seemingly, for both Homer and Virgil very 
soon finish the explanation of their opening initial 
scenes, and their readers know where they are. But 
the first six books of " The Faerie Queene " are very 
slightly connected together ; and what the connection 
is meant to be we learn only from the letter of the 
poet to Sir Walter Raleigh, which it was thought 
well to print with the first three books, no doubt in 
consequence of some complaints of obscurity and dis- 
attachment. This letter is significantly described as 
"expounding his" (the author's) "whole intention in 
the course of this work," and as " hereunto annexed, for 
that it giveth great light to the reader for the better 
understanding." Certainly a story ought not to re- 
quire a prose appendix to set forth its arrangement 
and its purpose, even if only a fourth of it is completed. 
The exact correlation of eleven books was to remain 
unrevealed till the Twelfth Book appeared. In fact, 
had the poem ever been completed, we should have 
had to begin its perusal at the end! Thus "The Faerie 
Queene," as has often been remarked, lacks unity and 
cohesion. It is not so much one large and glorious 
mansion as a group of mansions. To use the metaphor 
of Professor Craik, to whom many subsequent writers 
on Spenser have been so considerably indebted, and 
often without any at all adequate acknowledgment, it 
is a street of fine houses, or, to use another meta- 
phor of Professor Craik's, which also has been freely 
adopted by other critics, it is in parts a kind of wilder- 
ness — a wilderness of wonderful beauty and wealth, 



Introduction 

in which it is a delight to wander, but yet a wilderness 
with paths and tracks dimly and faintly marked, often 
scarcely to be discerned. 

Such was the abundance of Spenser's fancy, and so 
various and extensive was his learning, that he wrote, 
it would seem, with an amazing facility, never checked 
by any paucities of either knowledge or ideas. His 
pen could scarcely keep pace with his imagination. 
His material he drew from all accessible sources — 
from the Greek and Latin classics (his sympathetic ac- 
quaintance with Plato is one of his distinctions), from 
the Italian poets (not only from Ariosto and Tasso, 
but Berni, Boiardo, Pulci, and others), from the old 
Romances of Chivalry (especially the Arthurian in 
Malory's famous rendering, Bevis of Southampton, 
Amadis de Gaul), from what there was of modern 
English literature (above all, Chaucer's works, but 
also Hawes and other minor writers) and of modern 
French literature (especially Marot), from contempo- 
rary history (all the great personages of his time are 
brought before us in his pages) : but all these diverse 
elements he combines and assimilates in his own 
fashion, and forms into a compound quite unique, and 
highly characteristic both of the hour and of the man. 
No wonder if the modern reader is at first somewhat 
perplexed and confused ; no wonder if he often loses 
the thread of the story, and fails to comprehend 
such an astonishing prodigality of incident and of per- 
sonification. Figure after figure flits before his eyes — 
the cry is still "They come" ; one seems to be in the 
very birthplace and home of dreams, knights, ladies, 



Introduction 

monsters, wizards, and witches ; all forms of good and 
evil throng by in quick succession, and we are apt to 
forget who is who and what is what. Probably some 
candid good-natured friend complained to Spenser of 
this complicatedness, which is certainly at its worst in 
the Third and Fourth Books ; and in a certain passage 
in the Sixth he makes some sort of defence of himself 
for what might seem divisions or aberrations in the 
story of Sir Calidore. He compares himself to a ship 
that, by reason of counter-winds and tides, fails to go 
straight to its destination, but yet makes for it, and 
does not lose its compass; see VI. xii. i and 2. 

We are sure that for all young readers such a 
version of Spenser's stories as is given in this volume 
may be truly serviceable in preparing them for the 
study of the poem itself. And with some older 
readers too — and it is to them this Introduction is 
mainly addressed — we would fain hope this volume 
may find a hearty welcome, as providing them with 
a clue to what seems an intricate maze. What we 
should like to picture to ourselves is young and old 
reading these stories together, and the elder students 
selecting for their own benefit, and for the benefit of 
the younger, a few stanzas here and there from " The 
Faerie Oueene " by way of illustration. Of course we 
do not make this humble suggestion to the initiated, 
but to those — and their name is Legion — who at 
present know nothing or next to nothing of what is 
certainly one of the masterpieces of English literature. 

JOHN W. HALES. 




THE RED CROSS KNIGHT— «"» 

The Court of the Queen K i 

The Wood of Error -4 

The Knight deceived by the Magician ... 8 

The Knight forsakes Una 12 

Holiness fights Faithless, and makes Friends 

with False Religion 15 

Una and the Lion 17 

In the Hands of the Ene^my 23 

The House of Pride 26 

The Battle for the Shield -36 

Una and the Woodland Knight 41- 

The False Pilgrim 43 

Giant Pride 47 

Prince Arthur 50 

The Wondrous Bugle and the Mighty Shield . 54 

The Knight with the Hempen Rope .... 63 

xxi 

■ 



Contents 



PAGE 

In the Cave of Despair 68 

How the Red Cross Knight came to the House 

of Holiness 73 

The City of the Great King 79 

The Last Fight 84 

" Ease after War " . .86 



THE GOOD SIR GUYON— 

Sir Guyon meets the Magician .... „ 92 

Friend or Foe? 96 

The Story of the Knight and the Lady. . . 100 

The Three Sisters . .104 

Braggadochio .108 

Fury's Captive 112 

The Anger of Fire .116 

The Idle Lake 121 

The Realm of Pluto . . . . . . .127 

The Cave of Mammon .132 

The Champion of Chivalry 139 

The House of Temperance . . . . . .144 

The Rock of Reproach and the Wandering 

Islands 150 

Sea-Monsters and Land-Monsters . . . .156 
The Bower of Bliss . . . . . , .158 



THE LEGEND OF BRITOMART— 

How Sir Guyon met a Champion mightier than 

HIMSELF 167 

How Britomart fought with Six Knights . . 172 

HOW IT FARED WITH BRITOMART IN CASTLE JOYOUS . 1 77 

How Britomart looked into the Magic Mirror . 181 
How Britomart went to the Cave of the 

Magician Merlin 186 

How Britomart set forth on her Quest . .192 



Contents 



PAGE 

How Britomart came to the Castle of the 

Churl Malbecco 196 

How Britomart walked through Fire . . . 200 
What Britomart saw in the Enchanted Chamber 206 
How Britomart rescued a Fair Lady from a 

Wicked Enchanter 212 

What Strange Meetings befell on the Way. . 217 
How Sir Satyrane proclaimed a Great Tourna- 
ment 223 

What befell on the First and Second Days of 

the Tournament 229 

How Britomart did Battle for the Golden 

Girdle 234 

How the Golden Girdle was awarded to the 

False Florimell 239 

How Sir Scudamour came to the House of Care 244 
How the "Savage Knight" met the "Knight 

with the Ebony Spear" 250 

How Britomart ended her Quest . . . .255 



THE SQUIRE OF LOW DEGREE— 

The Giant with Flaming Eyes 260 

"For his Friend's Sake" 268 

The Giant's Daughter 274 



THE ADVENTURES OF SIR ARTEGALL— 

The Sword of Justice and the Iron Man . . 280 
The Adventure of the Saracen's Bridge . . 286 

The Giant with the Scales 290 

Borrowed Plumes, and the Fate of the Snowy 

Lady 294 

How the Good Horse Brigadore knew his own 

Master 301 



Contents 

PAGE 

The Adventure of the Two Brothers and the 

Coffer 305 

Radigund, Queen of the Amazons . . . .311 
How Sir Artegall threw away his Sword . .318 

The House of Guile 323 

The Battle of Queen Radigund and Britomart . 331 
The Adventure of the Damsel, the Two 

Knights, and the Sultan's Horses . . .336 
The Adventure at the Den of Deceit . . . 345 
The Adventure of the Tyrant Grantorto . .352 



SIR CALIDORE, KNIGHT OF COURTESY— 

The Quest of the Blatant Beast . . . . 360 

The Proud Discourteous Knight .... 369 

coridon and pastorella ...... 374 

In the Brigands' Den c 381 

The Beast with a Thousand Tongues . . 389 




The Red Cross Knight 



Right faithful true he ivas in deed and word 



The Court of the Queen 

ONCE upon a time, in the days 
when there were still such 
things as giants and dragons, there 
lived a great Queen. She reigned 
^'WMM II1W1 over a Tlc ^ an d beautiful country, 
( 1 I ml PSf an< ^ because she was good and noble 
every one loved her, and tried also 
to be good. Her court was the 
most splendid one in the world, for all her knights 
were brave and gallant, and each one thought only 
of what heroic things he could do, and how best he 
could serve his royal lady. 

The name of the Queen was Gloriana, and each of 
her twelve chief knights was known as the Champion 
of some virtue. Thus Sir Guyon was the representa- 
tive of Temperance, Sir Artegall of Justice, Sir Cali- 
dore of Courtesy, and others took up the cause of 
Friendship, Constancy, and so on. 

Every year the Queen held a great feast, which 




The Red Cross Knight 

lasted twelve days. Once, on the first day of the 
feast, a stranger in poor clothes came to the court, and, 
falling before the Queen, begged a favour of her. It was 
always the custom at these feasts that the Queen 
should refuse nothing that was asked, so she bade the 
stranger say what it was he wished. Then he besought 
that, if any cause arose which called for knightly aid, 
the adventure might be entrusted to him. 

When the Queen had given her promise he stood 
quietly on one side, and did not try to mix with the 
other guests who were feasting at the splendid tables. 
Although he was so brave, he was very gentle and 
modest, and he had never yet proved his valour in 
fight, therefore he did not think himself worthy of 
a place among the knights who had already won for 
themselves honour and renown. 

Soon after this there rode into the city a fair lady 
on a white ass. Behind her came her servant, a dwarf, 
leading a warlike horse that bore the armour of a 
knight. The face of the lady was lovely, but it was 
very sorrowful. 

Making her way to the palace, she fell before Queen 
Gloriana, and implored her help. She said that her 
name was Una ; she was the daughter of a king and 
queen who formerly ruled over a mighty country; 
but, many years ago, a huge dragon came and wasted 
all the land, and shut the king and queen up in a 
brazen castle, from which they might never come out. 
The Lady Una therefore besought Queen Gloriana to 
grant her one of her knights to fight and kill this 
terrible dragon. 

2 



The Court of the Queen 



»^t^^^^ 




Then the stranger sprang forward, and reminded 
the Queen of the promise she had given. At first 
she was unwilling to consent, for the Knight was 
young, and, moreover, he had no armour of his 
own to fight with. 

Then said the Lady Una to him, " Will you 
wear the armour that I bring you, for unless you do 
you will never succeed in the enterprise, nor kill the 
horrible monster of Evil ? The armour is not new, 
it is scratched and dinted with many a hard-fought 
battle, but if you wear it rightly no armour that ever 
was made will serve you so well." 

Then the stranger bade them bring the armour and 
put it on him, and Una said, " Stand, therefore, having 
your loins girt about with truth, and having on the 
breastplate of righteousness, and your feet shod with 
the preparation of the gospel of peace ; above all 
taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able 
to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked, and take 

3 



The Red Cross Knight 

the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, 
which is the word of God." 

And when the stranger had put off his own rough 
clothes and was clad in this armour, straightway he 
seemed the goodliest man in all that company, and 
the Lady Una was well pleased with her champion ; 
and, because of the red cross which he wore on his 
breastplate and on his silver shield, henceforth he 
was known always as. "the Red Cross Knjght." But 
his real name was Holiness^ and the name of the lady 
for whom he was to do battle was Truth. 

So these two rode forth, into the world together, 
while a little way behind followed their faithful atten- 
dant, Prudence. And now you shall hear some of 
the adventures that befell the Red Cross Knight and 
his two companions. 



The Wood of Error 

The first adventure happened in this way. Scarcely 
had the Red Cross Knight and the Lady Una started 
on their journey when the sky suddenly became over- 
cast, and a great storm of rain beat down upon the 
earth. Looking about for shelter, they saw, not far 
away, a shady grove, which seemed just what they 
wanted. The trees here had great spreading branches, 
which grew so. thickly overhead that no light could 
pierce the covering of leaves. Through this wood 
wide paths and alleys, well trodden, led in all direc- 
tions. It seemed a truly pleasant place, and a safe 

4 



The Wood of Error 

shelter against the tempest, so they entered in at 
once. 

At first, as they roamed along the winding paths 
they found nothing but pleasure. Deeper and deeper 
into the heart of the wood they went, hearing with joy 
the sweet singing of the birds, and filled with wonder 
to see so many different kinds of beautiful trees clus- 
tered in one spot. But by-and-by, when the storm was 
over and they wished to go forward on their journey, 
they found, to their sorrow, that they had lost their 
way. It was impossible to remember by which path 
they had come ; every way now seemed strange and 
unknown. Here and there they wandered, backwards 
and forwards ; there were so many turnings to be seen, 
so many paths, they knew not which to take to lead 
them out of the wood. 

In this perplexity, at last they determined to go 
straight forward until they found some end, either in 
or out of the wood. Choosing for this purpose one of 
the broadest and most trodden paths, they came pre- 
sently, in the thickest part of the wood, to a hollow 
cave. Then the Red Cross Knight dismounted from 
his steed, and gave his spear to the dwarf to hold. 

"Take heed," said the Lady Una, "lest you too 
rashly provoke mischief. This is a wild and unknown 
place, and peril is often without show. Hold back, 
therefore, till you know further if there is any danger 
hidden there." 

"Ah, lady," said the Knight, "it were shame to 
go backward for fear of a hidden danger. Virtue her- 
self gives light to lead through any darkness." 

5 



The Red Cross Knight 

' " Yes," said Una ; " but I know better than you 
the peril of this place, though now it is too late to 
bid you go back like a coward. Yet wisdom warns 
you to stay your steps, before you are forced to re- 
treat. This is the Wandering Wood, and that is the 
den of Error, a horrible monster, hated of all. There- 
fore, I advise you to be cautious." 




" Fly, fly ! this is no 
place for living men ! " cried 
timid Prudence. 

But the young Knight 
was full of eagerness and 
fiery courage, and nothing could stop him. Forth 
to the darksome hole he went, and looked in. His 
glittering armour made a little light, by which he 
could plainly see the ugly monster. Such a great, 
horrible thing it was, something like a snake, with a 
long tail twisted in knots, with stings all over it. 
And near this wicked big creature, whose other name 
was Falsehood^ there were a thousand little ones, all 

6 



The Wood of Error 

varying in shape, but every one bad and ugly ; for 
you may be quite sure that wherever one of this 
horrible race is found, there will always be many 
others of the same family lurking near. 

When the light shone into the cave all the little 
creatures fled to hide themselves, and the big parent 
Falsehood rushed out of her den in terror. But 
when she saw the shining armour of the Knight she 
tried to turn back, for she hated light as her deadliest 
foe, and she was always accustomed to live in dark- 
ness, where she could neither see plainly nor be seen. 

When the Knight saw that she was trying to 
escape, he sprang after her as fierce as a lion, and 
then the great fight began. Though he strove 
valiantly, yet he was in sore peril, for suddenly the 
cunning creature flung her huge tail round and round 
him, so that he could stir neither hand nor foot. 

Then the Lady Una cried out, to encourage him, 
" Now, now, Sir Knight, show what you are ! Add 
faith unto your force, and be not faint ! Kill her, 
or else she will surely kill you." 

With that, fresh strength and courage came to 
the Knight. Gathering all his force, he got one 
hand free, and gripped the creature by the throat 
with so much pain that she was soon compelled 
to loosen her wicked hold. Then, seeing that she 
could not hope to conquer in this way, she suddenly 
tried to stifle the Knight by flinging over him a flood 
of poison. This made the Knight retreat a moment ; 
then she called to her aid all the horrid little creeping 
and crawling monsters that he had seen before, and 

7 



The Red Cross Knight 

many others of the same kind, or worse. These came 
swarming and buzzing round the Knight like a cloud 
of teasing gnats, and tormented and confused him 
with their feeble stings. Enraged at this fresh attack, 
he made up his mind to end the matter one way or 
another, and, rushing at his foe, he killed her with 
one stroke of his sword. 

Then Lady Una, who, from a distance, had 
watched all that passed, came near in haste to greet 
his victory. 

" Fair Knight," she said, " born under happy 
star ! You are well worthy of that armour in which 
this day you have won great glory, and proved your 
strength against a strong enemy. This is your first 
battle. I pray that you will win many others in 
like manner." 



The Knight deceived by the Magician 

After his victory over Falsehood, the Red Cross 
Knight again mounted his steed, and he and the Lady 
Una went on their way. Keeping carefully to one 
path, and turning neither to the right hand nor the 
left, at last they found themselves safely out of the 
Wood of Error. 

But now they were to fall into the power of a more 
dangerous and treacherous foe than even the hateful 
monster, Falsehood. 

They had travelled a long way, and met with no 
fresh adventure, when at last they chanced to meet in 

8 



Knight deceived by the Magician 

the road an old man. He looked very wise and good. 
He was dressed in a long black gown, like a hermit, 
and had bare feet and a grey beard ; he had a book 
hanging from his belt, as was the 
custom with scholars in those days. 
He seemed very quiet and sad, 
and kept his eyes fixed on the 
ground, and all the time, as he 
went along, he seemed to be say- 
ing prayers, and lamenting over 
his own wickedness. 

When he saw the travellers he 




made a very humble salute to them. The Red Cross 
Knight returned the greeting with all courtesy, and 
asked him if he knew of any strange adventures that 
were then taking place. 

" Ah, my dear son ! " said the hermit, " how should 

9 



The Red Cross Knight 

a simple old man, who lives in a lonely cell, and does 
nothing all dav but sorrow for his own faults— how 
should such a man know any tidings of war or worldly 
trouble ? It is not fitting for me to meddle with such 
matters. But, if indeed vou desire to hear about 
danger and evil near at hand, I can tell you about a 
strange man who wastes all the surrounding country." 

"That," said the Knight, "is what I chiefly ask 
about, and I will reward you well if you will guide 
me to the place where he dwells. For it is a disgrace 
to knighthood that such a creature should be allowed 
to live so long." 

" His dwelling is far away from here, in the midst 
of a barren wilderness," answered the old man. " Xo 
living person may ever pass it without great danger 
and difficulty." 

" Now," said the Lady Una, " night is drawing 
near, and I know well that you are wearied with your 
former fight. Therefore, take rest, and with the new 
dav begin new work." 

" You have been well advised, Sir Knight," said 
the old man. "Day is now spent; therefore take up 
your abode with me for this night." 

The travellers were well content to do this, so 
they went with the apparently good old man to his 
home. 

It was a little lowly hermitage, down in a dale by 
the side of a forest, far from the beaten track of 
travellers. A small chapel was built near, and close 
by a crystal stream gently welled forth from a never- 
failing fountain. 

10 



Knight deceived by the Magician 

Arrived at the house, they neither expected nor 
found any entertainment ; but rest was what they 
chiefly needed, and they were well satisfied, for the 
noblest mind is always the best contented. The old 
man had a good store of pleasing words, and knew well 
how to fit his talk to suit his visitors. The evening 
passed pleasantly, and then the hermit conducted his 
guests to the lodgings where they were to spend the night. 

But when they were safely asleep a horrid change 
came over the old man, for in reality he was not good 
at all, although he pretended to be so. His heart was 
full of hatred, malice, and deceit. He called himself 
Archimago, which means a " Great Magician," but his 
real name was Hypocrisy. He knew that as long as 
Holiness and Truth kept together, no great harm 
could come to either of them ; so he determined to 
do everything in his power to separate them. For 
this purpose he got out all his books of magic, and set 
to work to devise cunning schemes and spells. He 
was so clever and wily that he could deceive people 
much better and wiser than himself. He also had at 
his bidding many bad little spirits, who ran about and 
did his messages ; these he used to help his friends 
and frighten his enemies, and he had the power of 
making them take any shape he wished. 

Choosing out two of the worst of these, he sent 
one on a message to King Morpheus, who rules over 
the Land of Sleep. He bade him bring back with 
him a bad, false dream, which Archimago then carried 
to the sleeping Knight. So cunningly did he contrive 
the matter, that when the Knight awoke the next 

II 



The Red Cross Knight 

morning he never knew that it had only been a dream, 
but believed that all the things he had seen in his sleep 
had really happened. 

In the meanwhile, Archimago dressed up the other 
bad spirit to look like Una, so that at a little distance 
it was impossible to tell any difference in the two 
figures. He knew that the only way to part Holiness 
and Truth was to make Holiness believe by some 
means that Truth was not as good as she appeared to 
be. He knew also that the Red Cross Knight would 
believe nothing against the Lady Una except what he 
saw with his own eyes. Therefore he laid his plans 
with the greatest care and guile. 

Now we shall see how he succeeded in his wicked 
endeavour. 



The Knight forsakes Una 

The next morning at daybreak the Knight awoke, 
sad and unrested after the unpleasant dreams that had 
come to him in the night. He did not know he had 
been asleep ; he thought the things that troubled him 
had really happened. 

It was scarcely dawn when Archimago rushed up 
to him in a state of pretended sorrow and indignation. 

"The Lady Una has left you," said this wicked 
man. " She is not good as she pretends to be. She 
cares nothing at all for you, nor for the noble work on 
which you are bound, and she does not mean to go 
any farther with you on your toilsome journey." 

The Red Cross Knight started up in anger. This 

12 






The Knight forsakes Una 

was like his dream, and he knew not what was true 
nor what was false. 

" Come," said Archimago, " see for yourself." 
He pointed to a figure in the distance whom the 
Knight took to be Una. Then, indeed, he was forced 
to believe what the wicked magician told him. He 
now took for granted that Una had been deceiving 
him all along, and had seized this moment to escape. 




He forgot all her real sweetness and goodness and 
beauty ; he only thought how false and unkind she 
was. He was filled with anger, and he never paused 
a moment to reflect if there could be any possibility 
of mistake. Calling his servant, he bade him bring 
his horse at once, and then these two immediately set 
forth again on their journey. 

Here the Red Cross Knight was wrong, and we 
*3 



The Red Cross Knight 




time was 
her own 



shall see presently into what perils and misfortunes he 
fell because of his hasty want of faith. If he had had 
a little patience he would soon have discovered that 

the figure he saw was only a 
dressed-up imitation. The real 
Lady Una all this 
sleeping quietly in 
bower. 

When she awoke and found 
that her two companions had 
fled in the night and left her 
alone behind, she was filled with 
grief and dismay. She could 
not understand why they should 
do such a thing. Mounting her white ass, she rode 
after them with all the speed she could, but the Knight 
had urged on his steed so fast it was almost useless to 
try to follow. Yet she never stayed to rest her weary 
limbs, but went on seeking them over hill and dale, 
and through wood and plain, sorely grieved in her 
tender heart that the one she loved best should leave 
her with such ungentle discourtesy. 

When the wicked Archimago saw that his cunning 
schemes had succeeded so well he was greatly pleased, 
and set to work to devise fresh mischief. It was Una 
whom he chiefly hated, and he took great pleasure 
in her many troubles, for hypocrisy always hates real 
goodness. He had the power of turning himself into 
any shape he chose — sometimes he would be a fowl, 
sometimes a fish, now like a fox, now like a dragon. 
On the present occasion, to suit his evil purpose, it 



Holiness fights Faithless 

seemed best to him to put on the appearance of the 
good knight whom he had so cruelly beguiled. 

Therefore, Hypocrisy dressed himself up in imita- 
tion armour with a silver shield and everything exactly 
like the Red Cross Knight. When he sat upon his 
fiery charger he looked such a splendid warrior you 
would have thought it was St. George himself. 



Holiness fights Faithless, and makes Friends with 
False Religion 

The true St. George, meanwhile, had wandered far 
away. Now that he had left the Lady Una, he had 
nothing but his own will to guide him, and he no 
longer followed any hxed purpose. 

Presently he saw coming to meet him another 
warrior, fully armed. He was a great, rough fellow, 
who cared nothing for God or man ; across his shield, 
in gav letters, was written "Sans Foy," which means 
Faithless. 

He had with him a companion, a handsome lady, 
dressed all in scarlet, trimmed with gold and rich 
pearls. She rode a beautiful palfrey, with gay trap- 
pings, and little gold bells tinkled on her bridle. The 
two came along laughing and talking, but when the 
lady saw the Red Cross Knight, she left off her mirth 
at once, and bade her companion attack him. 

Then the two knights leyelled their spears, and 
rushed at each other. But when Faithless saw the 
red cross grayen on the breastplate of the other, he 

l S 



The Red Cross Knight 




knew that he could never prevail 
against that safeguard. However, 
he fought with great fury, and the 
Red Cross Knight had a hard battle 
before he overcame him. At last 
he managed to kill him, and he told 
his servant to carry away the shield of Faithless in token 
of victory. 

When the lady saw her champion fall, she fled in 
terror ; but the Red Cross Knight hurried after her, 
and bade her stay, telling her that she had nothing 
now to fear. His brave and gentle heart was full of 
pity to see her in so great distress, and he asked her 
to tell him who she was, and who was the man that 
had been with her. 

Melting into tears, she then told him the following 
sad story : — She said that she was the daughter of an 
emperor, and had been engaged to marry a wise and 
good prince. Before the wedding-day, however, the 

16 



Una and the Lion 

prince fell into the hands of his foes, and was cruelly slain. 
She went out to look for his dead body, and in the course 
of her wandering met the Saracen knight, who took her 
captive. " Sans Foy " was one of three bad brothers. 
The names of the others were " Sans Loy," which means 
Lawless > and " Sans Joy," which means Joyless. She 
further said that her own name was " Fidessa," or True 
Religion^ and she besought the Knight to have compas- 
sion on her, because she was so friendless and unhappy. 

"Fair lady," said the Knight, "a heart of flint 
would grieve to hear of your sorrows. But henceforth 
rest safely assured that you have found a new friend 
to help you, and lost an old foe to hurt you. A new 
friend is better than an old foe." 

Then the seemingly simple maiden pretended to 
look comforted, and the two rode on happily together. 

But what the lady had told about herself was quite 
untrue. Her name was not " Fidessa" at all, but 
" Duessa," which means False Religion. If Una had 
still been with the Knight, he would never have been 
led astray ; but when he parted from her he had 
nothing but his own feelings to guide him. He still 
meant to do right, but he was deceived by his false 
companion, who brought him into much trouble and 
danger. 

Una and the Lion 

All this while the Lady Una, lonely and forsaken, 
was roaming in search of her lost Knight. How sad 
was her fate ! She, a King's daughter, so beautiful, so 

17 B 



The Red Cross Knight 

faithful, so true, who had done no wrong either in word 
or deed, was left sorrowful and deserted because of the 
cunning wiles of a wicked enchanter. Fearing nothing, 
she sought the Red Cross Knight through woods and 
lonely wilderness, but no tidings of him ever came 
to her. 

One day, being weary, she alighted from her steed, 
and lay down on the grass to rest. It was in the midst 
of a thicket, far from the sight of any traveller. She 
lifted her veil, and put aside the black cloak which 
always covered her dress. 

" Her angel's face, 
As the great eye of Heaven shined bright, 
And made a sunshine in the shady place." 

Suddenly, out of the wood there rushed a fierce 
lion, who, seeing Una, sprang at her to devour her ; 
but, when he came nearer, he was amazed at the sight 
of her loveliness, and all his rage turned to pity. 
Instead of tearing her to pieces, he kissed her weary 
feet and licked her lily hand as if he knew how inno- 
cent and wronged she was. 1 

When Una saw the gentleness of this kingly 
creature, she could not help weeping. 

Sad to see her sorrow, he stood gazing at her ; all 
his angry mood changed to compassion, till at last Una 
mounted her snowy palfrey and once more set out to 
seek her lost companion. 

1 The figure of the lion may be taken as the emblem of Honour} 
which always pays respect to Truth. 

l8 



ssii£^ 



Una and the Lion 

The lion would not leave her desolate, but went 
with her as a strong guard and as a faithful companion. 
When she slept he kept watch, and when she waked he 

waited diligently, ready 
to help her in any way he 
could. He always knew 
from her looks what she 
g^J ^ wanted. 

Long she travelled thus through 

lonely places, where she thought 

her wandering Knight might pass, 

yet never found trace of living 

man. At length she came to the 

foot' of a steep mountain, where 

the trodden grass showed that 

there was a path for people to go. 

This path she followed till at 

last she saw, slowly walking 

in the front of her, a damsel 

carrying a jar of water 



n»- 



: 



%,[■> 



The Lady Una called to her to ask if there were 
any dwelling-place near, but the rough-looking girl 
made no answer ; she seemed not able to speak, nor 

19 



The Red Cross Knight 

hear, nor understand. But when she saw the lion 
standing beside her, she threw down her pitcher with 
sudden fear and fled away. Never before in that land 
had she seen the face of a fair lady, and the sight of 
the lion filled her with terror. Fast away she fled, and 
never looked behind till she came at last to her home, 
where her blind mother sat all day in darkness. Too 
frightened to speak, she caught hold of her mother 
with trembling hands, while the poor old woman, full 
of fear, ran to shut the door of their house. 

By this time the weary Lady Una had arrived, and 
asked if she might come in ; but, when no answer came 
to her request, the lion, with his strong claws, tore 
open the wicket-door and let her into the little hut. 
There she found the mother and daughter crouched up 
in a dark corner, nearly dead with fear. 

The name of the poor old blind woman was Super- 
stition. She tried to be good in a very mistaken way. 
She hid herself in her dark corner, and was quite con- 
tent never to come out of it. When the beautiful Lady 
Una, who was all light and truth, came to the hut, the 
mother and daughter, instead of making her welcome, 
hated her, and would gladly have thrust her out. 

Trying to soothe their needless dread, Una spoke 
gently to them, and begged that she might rest that 
night in their small cottage. To this they unwillingly 
agreed, and Una lay down with the faithful lion at her 
feet to keep watch. All night, instead of sleeping, she 
wept, still sorrowing for her lost Knight and longing 
for the morning. 

In the middle of the night, when all the inmates 
20 



Una and the Lion 

of the little cottage were asleep, there came a furious 
knocking at the door. This was a wicked thief, 
called " Kirkrapine," or Church-robber \ whose custom 
it was to go about stealing ornaments from churches, 
and clothes from clergymen, and robbing the alms- 
boxes of the poor. He used to share his spoils with 
the daughter of the blind woman, and to-night he 
had come with a great sackful of stolen goods. 

When he received no answer to his knocking, he 
got very angry indeed, and made a loud clamour at 
the door ; but the women in the hut were too much 
afraid of the lion to rise and let him in. At last he 
burst open the door in a great rage and tried to enter, 
but the lion sprang upon him and tore him to pieces 
before he could even call for help. His terrified 
friends scarcely dared to weep or move in case they 
should share his fate. 

When daylight came, Una rose and started again 
on her journey with the lion to seek the wandering 
Knight. As soon as they had left, the two frightened 
women came forth, and, finding Church-robber slain 
outside the cottage, they began to wail and lament ; 
then they ran after Una, railing at her for being the 
cause of all their ill ; they called after her evil wishes 
that mischief and misery might fall on her and follow 
her all the way, and that she might ever wander in 
endless error. 

When they saw that their bad words were of no 
avail, they turned back, and there in the road they 
met a knight, clad in armour ; but, though he looked 
such a grand warrior, it was really only the wicked 

21 



The Red Cross Knight 

enchanter, Hypocrisy, who was seeking Una, in 
order to work her fresh trouble. When he saw 
the old woman, Superstition, he asked if she could 
give him any tidings of the lady. Therewith her 
passion broke out anew ; she told him what had 
just happened, blaming Una as the cause of all 
her distress. Archimago pretended to condole with 
her, and then, finding out the direction in which Una 
had gone, he followed as quickly as possible. 

Before long he came up to where Una was slowly 
travelling ; but seeing the noble lion at her side, he 
was afraid to go too near, and turned away to a hill 
at a little distance. When Una saw him, she thought, 
from his shield and armour, that it was her own true 
knight, and she rode up to him, and spoke meekly, 
half-frightened. 

" Ah, my lord," she said, " where have you been so 
long out of my sight ? I feared that you hated me, 
or that I had done something to displease you, and 
that made everything seem dark and cheerless. But 
welcome now, welcome ! " 

" My dearest lady," said false Hypocrisy, "you 
must not think I could so shame knighthood as to 
desert you. But the truth is, the reason why I left 
you so long was to seek adventure in a strange place, 
where Archimago said there was a mighty robber, who 
worked much mischief to many people. Now he will 
trouble no one further. This is the good reason why 
I left you. Pray believe it, and accept my faithful 
service, for I have vowed to defend you by land and 
sea. Let your grief be over." 

22 



In the Hands of the Enemy 




f/ When Una heard these 

ssJ^b sweet words it seemed to her 
that she was fully rewarded 
for all the trials she had gone 
through. One loving hour can 
make up for many years of sorrow. 
She forgot all that she had suf- 
fered ; she spoke no more of the 
past. True love never looks back, but always forward. 
Before her stood her Knight, for whom she had toiled 
so sorely, and Una's heart was filled with joy. 



In the Hands of the Enemy 

Una and the Magician (who was disguised as the 
Red Cross Knight) had not gone far when they saw 
some one riding swiftly towards them. The new-comer 
was on a fleet horse, and was fully armed ; his look was 
stern, cruel, and revengeful. On his shield in bold 

23 



The Red Cross Knight 

letters was traced the name " Sans Loy," which means 
Lawless. He was one of the brothers of " Sans Foy," 
or Faithless, whom the real Red Cross Knight had slain, 
and he had made up his mind to avenge his brother's 
death. 

When he saw the red cross graven on the shield 
which Hypocrisy carried, he thought that he had found 
the foe of whom he was in search, and, levelling his 
spear, he prepared for battle. Hypocrisy, who was a 
mean coward, and had never fought in his life, was 
nearly fainting with fear ; but the Lady Una spoke 
such cheering words that he began to feel more hope- 
ful. Lawless, however, rushed at him with such fury 
that he drove his lance right through the other's shield, 




and bore him to the ground. Leaping from his horse, 
he ran towards him, meaning to kill him, and exclaim- 
ing, " Lo, this is the worthy reward of him that slew 
Faithless ! " 

Una begged the cruel knight to have pity on his 
fallen foe, but her words were of no avail. Tearing off 

24 



Iii the Hands of the Enemy 

his helmet, Lawless would .^. 



have slain him at ^^^^^^^m^^^^^^^^"' 
once, but he stopped ^Sl&^N^S^^^^^' 

in astonishment Mw^f^Sfe-^^MHHB^w 

when, instead of the '■^H^^^*^^^^^B: ' ' JjA 
Red Cross Knight, '^SSE^^^ 'M 

he saw the face of .ji,^S^EJj^'^ ^^^m^^ 
Arch imago. He ^^^- S^-^^-'^bP^ 
knew we 11 that crafty -^^^feaJP^~- ^Pl^ - 
Hypocrisy was ^^^^^/^^^^^s^^> 

skilled in all forms ^mm — ^ //v _; 

of deceit, but that he took care to shun fighting and 
brave deeds. Now, indeed, had Hypocrisy's guile met 
with a just punishment. 

"Why, luckless Archimago, what is this ? " cried 
Lawless. " What evil chance brought yoit here ? Is 
it your fault, or my mistake, that I have wounded my 
friend instead of my foe ? " 

But the old Magician answered nothing ; he lay 
still as if he were dying. So Lawless spent no more 
time over him, but went over to where Una waited, 
lost in amazement and sorely perplexed. 

Her companion, whom she had imagined was her 
own true Knight, turned out to be nothing but an 
impostor, and she herself had fallen into the hands of 
a cruel enemy. 

25 



The Red Cross Knight 

When the brave lion saw Lawless go up to Una 
and try to drag her roughly from her palfrey, full 
of kingly rage he rushed to protect her. He flew at 
Lawless and almost tore his shield to pieces with his 
sharp claws. But, alas ! he could not overcome the 
warrior, for Lawless was one of the strongest men that 
ever wielded spear, and was well skilled in feats of arms. 
With his sharp sword he struck the lion, and the noble 
creature fell dead at his feet. 

Poor Una, what was to become of her now ? Her 
faithful guardian was gone, and she found herself the 
captive of a cruel foe. Lawless paid no heed to her 
tears and entreaties. Placing her on his own horse, he 
rode off with her ; while her snow-white ass, not will- 
ing to forsake her, followed meekly at a distance. 








The House of Pride 



Now the Red Cross Knight, because of his lack of 
loyalty to Una, fell into much danger and difficulty. 
His first fault was in believing evil of her so readily, 
and leaving her forlorn ; after that he was too easily 
beguiled by the pretended goodness and beauty of 

26 



The House of Pride 

Duessa. All who fight in a good cause must beware 
of errors such as these. If matters do not go exactly 
as we wish, we must not lose heart and get impatient ; 
even if we cannot understand what is happening, 
we must trust that all will be well. We must keep 
steadily to the one true aim set before us, or else, 
like the Red Cross Knight, we may be led astray by 
false things that are only pleasant in appearance, and 
have no real goodness. 

Duessa and the Knight travelled for a long way, till 
at last they saw in front of them a grand and beautiful 
building. It seemed as if it were the house of some 
mighty Prince ; a broad highway led up to it, all 
trodden bare by the feet of those who flocked thither. 
Great troops of people of all sorts and condition 
journeyed here, both by day and night. But few re- 
turned, unless they managed to escape, beggared and 
disgraced, when, ever afterwards, they lived a life of 
misery. 

To this place Duessa guided the Red Cross Knight, 
for she was tired with the toilsome journey, and the 
day was nearly over. 

It was a stately palace, built of smooth bricks, 
cunningly laid together without mortar. The walls 
were high, but neither strong nor thick, and they were 
covered with dazzling gold-foil. There were many 
lofty towers and picturesque galleries, with bright 
windows and delightful bowers ; and on the top there 
was a dial to tell the time. 

It was lovely to look at, and did much credit to 
the workman that designed it ; but it was a great pity 

27 



The Red Cross Knight 

that so fair a building rested on so frail a foundation. 
For it was mounted high up on a sandy hill that kept 
shifting and falling away. Every breath of heaven 
made it shake ; and all the back parts, that no one 
could see, were old and ruinous, though cunningly 
painted over. 

Arrived here, Duessa and the Red Cross Knight 
passed in at once, for the gates stood wide open to all. 
They were in charge of a porter, called " Ul-come," who 
never denied entrance to any one. The hall inside was 
hung with costly tapestry and rich curtains. Numbers 
of people, rich and poor, were waiting here, in order to 
gain sight of the Lady of this wonderful place. 

Duessa and the Knight passed through this crowd, 
who all gazed at them, and entered the Presence 
Chamber of the Queen. 

What a dazzling sight met their eyes ! Such a 
scene of splendour had never been known in the court 
of any living prince. A noble company of lords and 
ladies stood on every side, and made the place more 
beautiful with their presence. 

High above all there was a cloth of state, and a 
rich throne as bright as the sun. On the throne, clad 
in royal robes, sat the Queen. Her garments were all 
glittering with gold and precious jewels ; but so great 
was her beauty that it dimmed even the brightness of 
her throne. She sat there in princely state, shining 
like the sun. She hated and despised all lowly things 
of earth. Under her scornful feet lay a dreadful 
dragon, with a hideous tail. In her hand she held a 
mirror in which she often looked at her face ; she took 

28 




u %o I unoerneatb bet scornful feet was lagne 
B oreaoful otagon witb an bioeous tragne; 
Bno in bee bano sbe belo a mirrbour brigbt, 
Timberein ber face she often vteweo fagne, 
Bno in ber self*loveo semblance took oeligbt" 



The House of Pride 

great delight in her own appearance, for she was fairer 
than any living woman. 

She was the daughter of grisly Pluto, King of 
Hades, and men called her proud Lucifera. She had 
crowned herself a queen, but she had no rightful king- 
dom at all, nor any possessions. The power which she 
had obtained she had usurped by wrong and tyranny. 
She ruled her realm not by laws, but by craft, and 
according to the advice of six old wizards, who with 
their bad counsels upheld her kingdom. 

As soon as the Knight and Duessa came into the 
presence-chamber, an usher, by name Vanity, made 
room and prepared a passage for them, and brought 
them to the lowest stair of the high throne. Here 
they made a humble salute, and declared that they had 
come to see the Queen's royal state, and to prove if 
the wide report of her great splendour were true. 

With scornful eyes, half unwilling to look so low, 
she thanked them disdainfully, and did not show them 
any courtesy worthy of a queen, scarcely even bidding 
them arise. The lords and ladies of the court, how- 
ever, were all eager to appear well in the eyes of the 
strangers. They shook out their ruffles, and fluffed up 
their curls, and arranged their gay attire more trimly ; 
and each one was jealous and spiteful of the others. 

They did their best to entertain the Knight, and 
would gladly have made him one of their company. 
To Duessa, also, they were most polite and gracious, 
for formerly she had been well known in that court. 
But to the knightly eyes of the warrior all the glitter 
of the crowd seemed vain and worthless, and he thought 

3i 



The Red Cross Knight 

that it was unbefitting so great a queen to treat a 
strange knight with such scant courtesy. 

Suddenly, Queen Lucifera rose from her throne, and 
called for her coach. Then all was bustle and con- 
fusion, every one rushing violently forth. Blazing with 
brightness she paced down the hall, like the sun dawn- 
ing in the east. All the people thronging the hall 
thrust and pushed each other aside to gaze upon her. 
Her glorious appearance amazed the eyes of all men. 

Her coach was adorned with gold and gay garlands, 
and was one of the most splendid carriages ever seen, 
but it was drawn by an ugly and ill-matched team. On 
every animal rode one of her evil Councillors, who was 
much like in nature to the creature that carried him. 

The first of these, who guided all the rest, was 
Idleness, the nurse of Sin. He chose to ride a sloth- 
ful ass ; he looked always as if he were half asleep, and 
as if he did not know whether it were night or day. 
He shut himself away from all care, and shunned manly 
exercise, but if there were any mischief to be done he 
joined in it readily. The Queen was indeed badly 
served who had Idleness for her leading Councillor. 

Next to him came Gluttony, riding on a pig ; then 
Self-indulgence on a goat, Avarice on a camel, Envy 
on a wolf, and Wrath on a lion. Each in his own 
way was equally hideous and hateful. 

As they went along, crowds of people came round, 
shouting for joy ; always before them a foggy mist 
sprang up, covering all the land, and under their feet 
lay the dead bones of men who had wandered from 
the right path. 

32 




". . . Cbis was Drawne of sis unequal! beasts 
On wbicb bcr sir sage Counsclleurs CmC> t&>e" 



The House of Pride 

So forth they went in this goodly array to enjoy the 
fresh air, and to sport in the flowery meadows. Among 
the rest, next to the chariot, rode the false Duessa, but 
the good Knight kept far apart, not joining in the noisy 
mirth which seemed unbefitting a true warrior. 

Having enjoyed themselves awhile in the pleasant 
fields, they returned to the stately palace. Here they 
found that a wandering knight had just arrived. On his 
shield, in red letters, was written the name " Sans Joy," 
which means Joy less, and he was the brother of Faith- 
less^ whom the Red Cross Knight had slain, and of 
Lawless, who had taken Una captive. He looked 
sullen and revengeful, as if he had in his mind bitter 
and angry thoughts. 

When he saw the shield of his slain brother, Faith- 
less, in the hands of the Red Cross Knight's page, he 
sprang at him and snatched it away. But the Knight 
had no mind to lose the trophy which he had won in 
battle, and, attacking him fiercely, he again got pos- 
session of it. 

Thereupon they hastily began to prepare for battle, 
clashing their shields and shaking their swords in the 
air. But the Queen, on pain of her severe displeasure, 
commanded them to restrain their fury, saying that if 
either had a right to the shield, they should fight it 
out fairly the next day. 

That night was passed in joy and gaiety, feasting 
and making merry in bower and hall. The steward 
of the court was Gluttony, who poured forth lavishly 
of his abundance to all ; and then the chamberlain, 
Sloth, summoned them to rest. 

35 






The Red Cross Knight 



The Battle for the Shield 

That night, when every one slept, Duessa stole 
secretly to the lodgings of the pagan knight Joyless. 
She found him wide awake, restless, and troubled, 
busily devising how he might annoy his foe. To 
him she spoke many untrue words. 

" Dear Joyless," she said, " I am so glad that you 
have come. I have passed many sad hours for the sake 
of Faithless, whom this traitor slew. He has treated 
me very cruelly, keeping me shut up in a dark cave ; 
but now I will take shelter with you from his disdain- 
ful spite. To you belongs the inheritance of your 
brother, Faithless. Let him not be unavenged." 

" Fair lady, grieve no more for past sorrows," said 
Joyless ; " neither be afraid of present peril, for need- 
less fear never profited any one, nor is it any good to 
lament over misfortunes that cannot be helped. Faith- 
less is dead, his troubles are over ; but I live, and I 
will avenge him." 

" Oh, but I fear what may happen," she answered, 
" and the advantage is on his side." 

" Why, lady, what advantage can there be when 
both fight alike ? " asked Joyless. 

" Yes, but he bears a charmed shield," said Duessa, 
" and also enchanted armour that no one can pierce. 
None can wound the man that wears them." 

" Charmed or enchanted, I care not at all," said Joy- 
less fiercely, " nor need you tell me anything more about 
them. But, fair ladv, go back whence you came and 

36 



The Battle for the Shield 

rest awhile. To-morrow I shall subdue the Red Cross 
Knight, and give you the heritage of dead Faithless." 




" Wherever I am, my secret aid shall follow you," 
she answered, and then she left him. 

At the first gleam of dawn the Red Cross Knight 
37 



The Red Cross Knight 

sprang up and dressed himself for battle in his sun- 
bright armour. Forth he stepped into the halJ, where 
there were many waiting to gaze at him, curious to 
know what fate was in store for the stranger knight. 
Many minstrels were there, making melody to drive 
away sadness ; many singers that could tune their voices 
skilfully to harp and viol ; many chroniclers that could 
tell old stories of love and war. 

Soon after, came the pagan knight, Joyless, warily 
armed in woven mail. He looked sternly at the Red 
Cross Knight, who cared not at all how any living 
creature looked at him. Cups of wine were brought 
to the warriors, with dainty Eastern spices, and they 
both swore a solemn oath to observe faithfully the 
laws of just and fair fighting. 

At last, with royal pomp, came the Queen. She 
was led to a railed-in space of the green field, and 
placed under a stately canopy. On the other side, full 
in all men's view, sat Duessa, and on a tree near was 
hung the shield of Faithless. Both Duessa and the 
shield were to be given to the victor. 

A shrill trumpet bade them prepare for battle. 
The pagan knight was stout and strong, and his blows 
fell like great iron hammers. He fought for cruelty 
and vengeance. The Red Cross Knight was fierce, and 
full of youthful courage ; he fought for praise and 
honour. So furious was their onslaught that sparks of 
fire flew from their shields, and deep marks were hewn 
in their helmets. 

Thus they fought, the one for wrong, the other for 
right, and each tried to put his foe to shame. At last 

38 



The Battle for the Shield 

Joyless chanced to look at his brother's shield which 
was hanging near. The sight of this doubled his anger, 
and he struck at' his foe with such fury that the Knight 
reeled twice, and seemed likely to fall. To those who 
looked on, the end of the battle appeared doubtful, and 
false Duessa began to call loudly to Joyless, — 

" Thine the shield, and I, and all ! 

Directly the Red Cross Knight heard her voice he 
woke out of the faintness that had overcome him ; his 
faith, which had grown weak, suddenly became strong, 
and he shook off the deadly cold that was creeping 
over him. 

This time he attacked Joyless with such vigour that 
he brought him down upon his knees. Lifting his sword, 
he would have slain him, when suddenly a dark cloud fell 
between them. Joyless was seen no more ; he had van- 
ished ! The Knight called aloud to him, but received no 
answer : his foe was completely hidden by the darkness. 

Duessa rose hastily from her place, and ran to the 
Red Cross Knight, saying, — 

"O noblest Knight, be angry no longer! Some 
evil power has covered your enemy with the cloud of 
night, and borne him away to the regions of darkness. 
The conquest is yours, I am yours, the shield and the 
glory are yours." 

Then the trumpets sounded, and running heralds 
made humble homage, and the shield, the cause of all 
the enmity, was brought to the Red Cross Knight. 
He went to the Queen, and, kneeling before her, offered 
her his service, which she accepted with thanks and 
much satisfaction, greatly praising his chivalry. 

39 



The Red Cross Knight 

So they marched home, the Knight next the Queen, 
while all the people followed with great glee, shout- 
ing and clapping their hands. When they got to the 
palace the Knight was given gentle attendants and 
skilled doctors, for he had been badly hurt in the fight. 
His wounds were washed with wine, and oil, and heal- 
ing herbs, and all the while lovely music was played 
round his bed to beguile him from grief and pain. 

While this was happening, Duessa secretly left the 
palace, and stole away to the Kingdom of Darkness, 
which is ruled over by the Queen of Night. This 
queen was a friend of her own, and was always ready 
to help in any bad deeds. Duessa told her of what 
had befallen the pagan knight, Joyless, and persuaded 
her to carry him away to her own dominions. Here he 
was placed under the care of a wonderful doctor, who 
was able to cure people by magic, and Duessa hastened 
back to the House of Pride. 

When she got there she was dismayed to find that 
the Red Cross Knight had already left, although he 
was not nearly healed from the wounds which he 
had received in battle. 

The reason why he left was this. One day his 
servant, whose name you may remember was Prudence, 
came and told him that he had discovered in the palace 
a huge, deep dungeon, full of miserable prisoners. 
Hundreds of men and women were there, wailing and 
lamenting — grand lords and beautiful ladies, who, from 
foolish behaviour or love of idle pomp, had wasted 
their wealth and fallen into the power of the wicked 
Queen of Pride. 

40 



Una and the Woodland Knight 

When the good Red Cross Knight heard this, he 
determined to stay no longer in such a place of peril. 

Rising before dawn, he left by a small side door, for 
he knew that if he were seen he would be at once put to 
death. To him the place no more seemed beautiful ; 
it filled him with horror and disgust. Riding under 
the castle wall, the way was strewn with hundreds of 
dead bodies of those who had perished miserably. 
Such was the dreadful sight of the House of Pride. 



Una and the Woodland Knight 



We left Una in a piteous plight, in the hands of a 
cruel enemy, the pagan knight Lawless. 

Paying no heed to her tears and entreaties, he 
placed her on his horse, and rode off with her till he 
came to a great forest. 

Una was almost in despair, for there seemed no 
hope of any rescue. But suddenly there came a 
wonderful way of deliverance. 

In the midst of the thick wood Lawless halted to 
rest. This forest was inhabited by numbers of strange 
wild creatures, quite untaught, almost savages. Hear- 
ing Una's cries for help, they came flocking up to see 
what was the matter. Their fierce, rough appearance 
so frightened Lawless that he jumped on to his horse 
and rode away as fast as he could. 

When the wild wood-folk came up they found 
Una sitting desolate and alone. They were amazed 
at such a strange sight, and pitied her sad condition. 

4i 



The Red Cross Knight 

They all stood astonished at her loveliness, and could 
not imagine how she had come there. 

Una, for her part, was greatly terrified, not know- 
ing whether some fresh danger awaited her. Half in 
fear, half in hope, she sat still in amazement. Seeing 
that she looked so sorrowful, the savages tried to show 
that they meant to be friendly. They smiled, and came 
forward gently, and kissed her feet. Then she guessed 
that their hearts were kind, and she arose fearlessly 
and went with them, no longer afraid of any evil. 

Full of gladness, they led her along, shouting and 
singing and dancing round her, and strewing all the 
ground with green branches, as if she had been a queen. 
Thus they brought her to their chief, old Sylvanus. 

When Sylvanus saw her, like the rest he was 
astonished at her beauty, for he had never seen any- 
thing so fair. Her fame spread through the forest, 
and all the other dwellers in it came to look at her. 
The Hamadryads, who live in the trees, ancj the 
Naiades, who live in the flowing fountains, all came 
flocking to see her lovely face. As for the wood- 
landers, henceforth they thought no one on earth fair 
but Una. 

Glad at such good fortune, Una was quite con- 
tented to please the simple folk. She stayed a long 
while with them, to gather strength after her many 
troubles. During this time she did her best to teach 
them, but the poor things were so ignorant, it was 
almost impossible to make them understand the differ- 
ence between right and wrong. 

It chanced one day that a noble knight came to 
42 



< 



The False Pilgrim 

the forest to seek his kindred who dwelt there. He 
had won much glory in wars abroad, and distant lands 
were filled with his fame. He was honest, faithful, 
and true, though not very polished in manner, nor 
accustomed to a courtly life. His name was Sir Saty- 
rane.. He had been born and brought up in the forest, 
and his father had taught him nothing but to be utterly 
fearless. When he grew up, and could master every- 
thing in the forest, he went abroad to fight foreign foes, 
and his fame was soon carried through all lands. It 
was always his custom, after some time spent in labour 
and adventure, to return for a while to his native 
woods, and so it happened on this occasion that he 
came across Una. 

The first time he saw her she was surrounded by 
the savages, whom she was trying to teach good and 
holy things. Sir Satyrane wondered at the wisdom 
which fell from her sweet lips, and when, later on, he 
saw her gentle and kindly deeds, he began to admire 
and love her. Although noble at heart, he had never 
had any one to teach him, but now he began to learn 
from Una faith and true religion. 



The False Pilgrim 

Una's thoughts were stiJl fixed on the Red Cross 
Knight, and she was sorry to think of his perilous 
wandering. She was always sad at heart, and spent 
her time planning how to escape. At last she told 
her wish to Sir Satyrane, who, glad to please her in 

43 



The Red Cross Knight 

any way, began to devise how he could help her to get 
free from the savage folk. One day, when Una was 
left alone, all the woodlanders having gone to pay 
court to their chief, old Sylvanus, she and Sir Satyrane 
rode away together. They went so fast and so care- 
fully that no one could overtake them, and thus at 
last they came to the end of the forest, and out into 
the open plain. 

Towards evening, after they had journeyed a long 
distance, they met a traveller. He seemed as if he 
were a poor, simple pilgrim ; his clothes were dusty 
and travel-worn ; his face brown and scorched with 
the sun ; he leant upon a staff, and carried all his neces- 
saries in a scrip, or little bag, hanging behind. 

Sir Satyrane asked if there were any tidings of new 
adventures, but the stranger had heard of none. Then 
Una began to ask if he knew anything about a knight 
who wore on his shield a red cross. 

" Alas ! dear lady," he replied, " I may well grieve 
to tell you the sad news ! I have seen that knight with 
my own eyes, both alive and also dead." 

When Una heard these cruel words she was filled 
with sorrow and dismay, and begged the pilgrim to tell 
her everything he knew. 

Then he related how on that very morning he had 
seen two knights preparing for battle. One was a 
pagan, the other was the Red Cross Knight. They 
fought with great fury, and in the end the Red Cross 
Knight was slain. 

This story was altogether false. The pretended 
pilgrim was no other than the wicked enchanter 

44 




"£be IFmfgbt, approacbing nigb, of bim inquires 
Gioings of warre, ano of aoventures new/ 9 



Giant Pride 

Archimago, or Hypocrisy, in a fresh disguise. But Sir 
Satyrane and Una believed everything he told them. 

" Where is this pagan now ? " asked Satyrane. 

"Not far from here," replied the pilgrim; "I 
left him resting beside a fountain." 

Thereupon Sir Satyrane hastily marched off, and 
soon came to the place where he guessed that the 
other would be found. This pagan knight turned 
out to be Lawless, from whom, you may remember, 
Una had escaped in the forest, before she was found 
by the woodlanders. Sir Satyrane challenged Law- 
less to fight, and they were soon engaged in a fierce 
battle. Poor Una was so terrified at this new peril, 
and in such dread of Lawless, that she did not wait 
to see what the end would be, but fled far away as 
fast as she could. 

Archimago had been watching everything from a 
secret hiding-place. Now, when he saw Una escaping, 
he quickly followed, for he hoped to be able to work 
her some further mischief. 



Giant Pride 

When Duessa found that the Red Cross Knight had 
left the palace of Queen Lucifera, she immediately set 
out in search of him. It was not long before she found 
him where he sat wearily by the side of a fountain to 
rest himself. He had taken off all his armour, and his 
steed was cropping the grass close by. It was pleasant 
in the cool shade, and the soft wind blew refreshingly 

47 









The Red Cross Knight 




upon his forehead, 
while, in the trees 
above, numbers of 
singing birds de- 
lighted him with 
their sweet music. 

Duessa at first 
pretended to be 
angry with the 
Knight for leaving 
her so unkindly, but 
they were soon good 
friends again. They 
stayed for some time 

beside the fountain, where the green boughs sheltered 

them from the scorching heat. 

But although it looked so lovely and tempting, 

the fountain near which they sat was an enchanted one. 

Whoever tasted its waters grew faint and feeble. 

The Knight, not knowing this, stooped down to 

drink of the stream, which was as clear as crystal. Then 

4 8 



Giant Pride 

all his strength turned to weakness, his courage melted 
away, and a deadly- chill crept over him. 

At first he scarcely noticed the change, for he had 
grown careless both of himself and of his fame. But 
suddenly he heard a dreadful sound— a loud bellowing 
which echoed through the wood. The earth seemed 
to shake with terror, and all the trees trembled. The 
Knight, astounded, started up, and tried to seize his 
weapons. But before he could put on his armour, or get 
his shield, his monstrous enemy came stalking into sight. 

It was a hideous Giant, great and horrible. The 
ground groaned under him. He was taller than three 
of the tallest men put together. His name was 
Orgoglio, or Pride, and his father's name was Ignor- 
ance. He was puffed up with arrogance and conceit, 
and because he was so big and strong he despised every 
one else. He leant upon a gnarled oak, which he had 
torn up by its roots from the earth ; it also served 
him as a weapon to dismay his foemen. 

When he saw the Knight he advanced to him with 
dreadful fury. The latter, quite helpless, all in vain 
tried to prepare for battle. Disarmed, disgraced, in- 
wardly dismayed, and faint in every limb, he could 
scarcely wield even his useless blade. The Giant aimed 
such a merciless stroke at him, that if it had touched 
him it would have crushed him to powder. But the 
Knight leapt lightly to one side, and thus escaped the 
blow. So great, however, was the wind that the club 
made in whirling through the air that the Knight was 
overthrown, and lay on the ground stunned. 

When Giant Pride saw his enemy lying helpless, he 
49 o 



The Red Cross Knight 

lifted up his club to kill him, but Duessa called to 
him to stay his hand. 

"0 great Orgoglio," she cried, "spare him for my 
sake, and do not kill him. Now that he is vanquished 
make him your bond-slave, and, if you like, I will be 
your wife ! " 

Giant Pride was quite pleased with this arrangement, 
and, taking up the Red Cross Knight before he could 
awake from his swoon, he carried him hastily to his 
castle, and flung him, without pity, into a deep dungeon. 

As for Duessa, from that day forth she was treated 
with the greatest honour. She was given gold and 
purple to wear, and a triple crown was placed upon her 
head, and every one had to obey her as if she were a 
queen. To make her more dreaded, Orgoglio gave 
her a hideous dragon to ridt. This dragon had seven 
heads, with gleaming eyes, and its body seemed made 
of iron and brass. Everything good that came within 
its reach it swept away with a great long tail, and then 
trampled under foot. 

All the people's hearts were filled with terror when 
they saw Duessa riding on her dragon. 



Prince Arthur 

When the Red Cross Knight was made captive by 
Giant Pride and carried away, Prudence, his servant, 
who had seen his master's fall, sorrowfully collected his 
forsaken possessions — his mighty armour, missing when 
most needed, his silver shield, now idle and masterless, 

5° 



Prince Arthur 

his sharp spear that had done good service in many a 
fray. With these he departed to tell his sad tale. 

He had not gone far when he met Una, flying 
from the scene of battle, while Sir Satyrane hindered 
Lawless from pursuing her. When she saw Prudence 
carrying the armour of the Red Cross Knight, she 
guessed something terrible had happened, and fell to 
the ground as if she were dying of sorrow. 

Unhappy Prudence would gladly have died himself, 
but he did his best to restore Una to life. When she 
had recovered she implored him to tell her what had 
occurred. 

Then the dwarf told her everything that had taken 
place since they parted. How the crafty Archimago 
had deceived the Red Cross Knight by his wiles, and 
made him believe that Una had left him ; how the 
Knight had slain Faithless and had taken pity on Duessa 
because of the false tales she told. Prudence also told 
Una all about the House of Pride and its perils ; he 
described the fight which the Knight had with Joyless, 
and lastly, he told about the luckless conflict with the 
great Giant Pride, when the Knight was made captive, 
whether living or dead he knew not. 

Una listened patiently, and bravely tried to master 
her sorrow, which almost broke her heart, for she dearly 
loved the Red Cross Knight, for whose sake she had 
borne so many troubles. At last she rose, quite resolved 
to find him, alive or dead. The dwarf pointed out the 
way by which Giant Pride had carried his prisoner, and 
Una started on her quest. Long she wandered, through 
woods and across valleys, high over hills, and low 

5* 



The Red Cross Knight 

among the dales, tossed by storms and beaten by the 
wind, but still keeping steadfast to her purpose. 

At last she chanced by good fortune to meet a 
knight, marching with his squire. This knight was 
the most glorious she had ever seen. His glittering 
armour shone far off, like the glancing light of the 
brightest ray of sunshine ; it covered him from top to 
toe, and left no place unguarded. Across his breast he 
wore a splendid belt, covered with jewels that sparkled 
like stars. Among the jewels was one of great value, 
which shone with such brilliancy that it amazed all who 
beheld it. Close to this jewel hung the knight's sword, 
in an ivory sheath, carved with curious devices. The 
hilt was of burnished gold, the handle of mother-of- 
pearl, and it was buckled on with a golden clasp. 

The helmet of this knight was also of gold, and for 
crest it had a golden dragon with wings. On the top of 
all was a waving plume, decked with sprinkled pearls, 
which shook and danced in every little breath of wind. 

The shield of the warrior was closely covered, and 
might never be seen by mortal eye. It was not made 
of steel nor of brass, but of one perfect and entire 
diamond. This had been hewn out of the adamant 
rock with mighty engines ; no point of spear could ever 
pierce it, nor dint of sword break it asunder. 

This shield the knight never showed to mortals, 
unless he wished to dismay some huge monster or to 
frighten large armies that fought unfairly against him. 
No magic arts nor enchanter's spell had any power 
against it. Everything that was not exactly what it 
seemed to be faded before it and fell to ruin. 

52 



Prince Arthur 

The maker of the shield was supposed to be 
Merlin, a mighty magician ; he made it with the 
sword and armour for this young prince when the 
latter first took to arms. 

The name of the knight was Prince Arthur, type 
of all Virtue and Magnificence, and pattern of all true 
Knighthood. 

His squire bore after him his spear of ebony wood ; 
he was a gallant and noble youth, who managed his 
fiery steed with much skill and courage. 

When Prince Arthur came near Una, he greeted 
her with much courtesy. By her unwilling answers he 
guessed that some secret sorrow was troubling her, and 
he hoped that his gentle and kindly words would 
persuade her to tell him the cause of her grief. 

" What good will it do to speak of it ? " said Una. 
" When I think of my sorrow it seems to me better 
to keep it hidden than to make it worse by speaking of 
it. Nothing in the world can lighten my misfortunes. 
My last comfort is to be left alone to weep for them." 

" Ah, dear lady," said the gentle Knight, " I know 
well that your grief is great, for it makes me sad even 
to hear you speak of it. But let me entreat you to 
tell me what is troubling you. Misfortunes may be 
overcome by good advice, and wise counsel will lessen 
the worst injury. He who never tells of his hurts will 
never find help." 

His words were so kind and reasonable that Una 
was soon persuaded to tell him her whole story. She 
began with the time when she had gone to the Court 
of Queen Gloriana to seek a champion to release her 

53 



The Red Cross Knight 

parents from the horrible dragon, and ended with the 
account of how the Red Cross Knight had fallen a prey 
to Giant Pride, who now held him captive in a dark 
dungeon. 

" Truly, lady, you have much cause to grieve," said 
Prince Arthur when the story was finished. " But be of 
good cheer, and take comfort. Rest assured I will never 
forsake you until I have set free your captive Knight." 

His cheerful words revived Una's drooping heart, 
and so they set forth on their journey, Prudence guiding 
them in the right way. 



The Wondrous Bugle and the Mighty Shield 

Badly indeed would it now have fared with the Red 
Cross Knight had it not been for the Lady Una. Even 
good people daily fall into sin and temptation, but as 
often as their own foolish pride or weakness leads them 
astray, so often will Divine love and care rescue them, 
if only they repent of their misdoings. Thus we see 
how Holiness, in the guise of the Red Cross Knight, 
was for a while cast down and defeated ; yet in the end, 
because he truly repented, help was given him to fight 
again and conquer. 

Prince Arthur and the Lady Una travelled till they 
came to a castle which was built very strong and high. 

" Lo," cried the dwarf, "yonder is the place where 
my unhappy master is held captive by that cruel 
tyrant ! " 

The Prince at once dismounted, and bade Una stay 

54 



The Wondrous Bugle 

to see what would happen. He marched with his 
squire to the castle walls, where he found the gates 
shut fast. There was no warder to guard them, nor 
to answer to the call of any who came. 

Then the squire took a small bugle which hung at 
his side with twisted gold and gay tassels. Wonderful 
stories were told about that bugle ; every one trembled 
with dread at its shrill sound. It could easily be heard 
three miles off, and whenever it was blown it echoed 
three times. No false enchantment or deceitful snare 
could stand before the terror of that blast. No gate 
was so strong, no lock so firm and fast, but at that 
piercing noise it flew open or burst. 

This was the bugle which Prince Arthur's squire 
blew before the gate of Giant Pride. Then the whole 
castle quaked, and every door flew open. The Giant 
himself, dismayed at the sound, came rushing forth in 
haste from an inner bower, to see what was the reason 
of this sudden uproar, and to discover who had dared 
to brave his power. After him came Duessa, riding on 
her dragon with the seven heads ; every head had a 
crown on it, and a fiery tongue of flame. 

When Prince Arthur saw Giant Pride, he took his 
mighty shield and flew at him fiercely ; the Giant lifted 
up his club to smite him, but the Prince leaped to one 
side, and the weapon, missing him, buried itself with such 
force in the ground, that the Giant could not quickly 
pull it out again. Then with his sharp sword Prince 
Arthur struck at the Giant, and wounded him severely. 

Duessa, seeing her companion's danger, urged for- 
ward her dragon to help him, but the brave squire sprang 

SS 



The Red Cross Knight 

in between it and the Prince, and with his drawn sword 
drove it back. Then the angry Duessa took a golden 
cup, which she always carried, and which was full of a 
secret poison. Those who drank of that cup either died, 
or else felt despair seize them. She lightly sprinkled 
the squire with the contents of this cup, and immedi- 
ately his courage faded away, and he was filled with 
sudden dread. He fell down before the cruel dragon, 
who seized him with its claws, and nearly crushed the 
life out of him. He had no power nor will to stir. 

When Prince Arthur saw what had happened, he 
left Giant Pride and turned against the dragon, for he 
was deeply grieved to see his beloved squire in such peril. 
He soon drove back the horrible creature, but now once 
again the Giant rushed at him with his club. This time 
the blow struck the Prince with such force, that it bore 
him to the ground. In the fall, his shield, that had been 
covered, lost by chance its veil, and flew open. 

Then through the air flashed such a blazing bright- 
ness, that no eye could bear to look upon it. Giant 
Pride let fall the weapon with which he was just going 
to slay the Prince, and the dragon was struck blind, 
and tumbled on the ground. 

" Oh, help, Orgoglio, help, or we all perish ! " cried 
Duessa. 

Gladly would Giant Pride have helped her, but all 
was in vain ; when that light shone he had no power 
to hurt others, nor to defend himself; so Prince Arthur 
soon killed him. 

When he was dead, his great body, that had seemed 
so big and strong, suddenly melted away, and nothing 

56 



The Wondrous Bugle 

was lef: bu: what !::^:i like the shrivelled skin :f a 
brzken balloon; for. after all. there was no real sub- 
stance in him. bu: re was simply purred :u: with e:vo:l- 
ness and conceit, and his grand appearance was nothing 
but a sham. 

So that was the end of Gian: Pride. 

When false Duessa saw the fall of Gian: Pride she 
rlurr down her golden cup, ru threw aside ner crew;;. 
and ned away. But :he squire fill: wed. and soon took 
her prisoner. Telling hint t: keep safe guard •::: her. 
Prince Arthur boldly entered tne Giant's Castle. X:: 
a living creature could he spy; he called loudly, but 
no one answered; a sclent:: silence reigned everywhere. 
not. a voice was :: be heard, not a person seen, in 
bower or hall. 

A: las: an eld. eld man, with beard as white as 
snow, came creeping along; he guided 1 is feeble steps 
with a staff, for long ago his sigh: had failed. On his 
arm he bore a bunch of keys, all c : vexed with rust They 
were the keys of all the doors inside the castle; they 
were never used, but he still kept possession of them. 

It was curious to see the way in which this old man 
walked, for always, as he went forward, he kept his 
.tied face turned back, as if he were trying to 
'.:■•: k behind. He was :ne keener :f :ne rlace. too 
:he fa:her of :he dead Gian: Pride ; his nance was 
Ir;: ;;'.:;;.v, 

Prince Arthur, as was fitting, honoured his grey 
hair and gravity, and gently asked him where all the 
people were who used to live in that stately building. 
The old man softly answered him that he could not 

57 



The Red Cross Knight 

tell. Again the Prince asked where was the Knight 
whom the Giant had taken captive ? 

" I cannot tell," said the old man. 

Then the Prince asked which was the way into the 
castle, and again he got the same answer, " I cannot 
tell." 

At first he thought the man was mocking him, and 
began to be much displeased. But presently, seeing 
that the poor old thing could not help his foolishness, 
he wisely calmed his anger. Going up to him he took 
the keys from his arm, and made an entrance for him- 
self. He opened each door without the least difficulty ; 
there was no one to challenge him, nor any bars to 
hinder his passage. 

Inside the castle he found the whole place fitted 
up in the most splendid manner, decked with royal 
tapestry, and shining with gold, fit for the presence of 
the greatest prince. But all the floors were dirty, and 
strewn with ashes, for it was here that the wicked 
Giant Pride used to slay his unhappy victims. 

Prince Arthur sought through every room, but 
nowhere could he find the Red Cross Knight. At last 
he came to an iron door, which was fast locked, but 
he found no key among the bunch to open it. In the 
door, however, there was a little grating, and through 
this the Prince called as loudly as he could, to know 
if there were any living person shut up there whom he 
could set free. 

Then there came a hollow voice in answer. "Oh, 
who is that who brings to me the happy choice of 
death ? Here I lie, dying everv hour, yet still compelled 

58 




" Mbome wben bis Xaop. saw, to btm sbe ran 
IKflitb basts jop. : to see bim maoe bet glao, 
Bno sao to view bis visage pale ano wan." 



The Wondrous Bugle 

to live, bound in horrible darkness. Three months 
have come and gone since I beheld the light of day. 
Oh, welcome, you who bring true tidings of death." 

When Prince Arthur heard these words his heart 
was so filled with pity and horror at any noble knight 
being thus shamefully treated, that, in his strength and 
indignation, he rent open the iron door. But entering, 
he found no floor ; there was a deep descent, as dark 
as a pit, from which came up a horrible deadly smell. 

Neither darkness, however, nor dirt, nor poisonous 
smell could turn the Prince from his purpose, and he 
went forward courageously. With great trouble and 
difficulty he found means to raise the captive, whose 
own limbs were too feeble to bear him, and then he 
carried him out of the castle. 

What a mournful picture was now the Red Cross 
Knight ! His dull, sunken eyes could not bear the 
unaccustomed light of the sun ; his cheeks were thin 
and gaunt ; his mighty arms, that had fought so often 
and so bravely, were nothing now but bones ; all his 
strength was gone, and all his flesh shrunk up like a 
withered flower. 

When Una saw Prince Arthur carrying the Red 
Cross Knight out of the castle she ran to them joy- 
fully ; it made her glad even to see the Knight, but 
she was full of sorrow at the sight of his pale, wan 
face, which had formerly been radiant with the glory 
of youth. 

" My dearest lord/' she cried, " what evil star has 
frowned on you and changed you thus ? But welcome 
now, in weal or woe, my dear lord whom I have lost 

61 



The Red Cross Knight 

too long ! Fate, who has been our foe so long, will 
injure us no further, but shall pay penance with three- 
fold good for all these wrongs.' 7 

The unhappy man, dazed with misery, had no 
desire to speak of his troubles ; his long-endured 
famine needed more relief. 

" Fair lady," then said the victorious Prince, 
" things that were grievous to do or to bear it brings 
no pleasure to recall. The only good that comes from 
past danger is to make us wiser and more careful for 
the future. This day's example has deeply written this 
lesson on my heart — perfect happiness can never be 
lasting while we still live on earth. 

''Henceforth, Sir Knight," he continued, "take to 
yourself your old strength, and master these mishaps 
by patience. Look where your foe lies vanquished, 
and the wicked woman, Duessa, the cause of all your 
misery, stands in your power, to let her live or die." 

" To kill her would be to act unworthily," said 
Una, " and it would be a shame to avenge one's self 
on such a weak enemy. But take off her scarlet robe 
and let her fly ! " 

So they did as Una bade them. They took from 
Duessa all her finery — her royal robe, and purple cloak, 
and all the rich ornaments with which she was decked. 
And when this disguise was taken from her, they saw 
her as she really was — old, and ugly, and bad. She 
would no longer be able to deceive people by her pre- 
tended goodness, and youth, and beauty, for every one 
who saw her shrunk away in horror. 

" Such," said Una, " is the face of Falsehood when 
62 



The Knight with Hempen Rope 

its borrowed light is laid aside, and all its deceitfulness 
is made known." 

Thus, having taken from Duessa her power to work 
evil, they set her free to go where she pleased. She 
fled to a barren wilderness, where she lurked unseen in 
rocks and caves, for she always hated the light. 

But Prince Arthur, and the Red Cross Knight, and 
fair Una stayed for awhile in the castle of Giant Pride, to 
rest themselves and to recover their strength. And here 
they found a goodly store of all that was dainty and rare. 



The Knight with the Hempen Rope 

When the two Knights and the Lady Una had 
rested awhile in the castle of Giant Pride, they set out 
again on their journey. Before they parted, Prince 
Arthur and the Red Cross Knight gave each other 
beautiful gifts — tokens of love and friendship. Prince 
Arthur gave a box of adamant, embossed with gold, 
and richly ornamented ; in it were enclosed a few drops 
of a precious liquid of wonderful power, which would 
immediately heal any wound. In return the Red Cross 
Knight gave the Prince a Bible, all written with golden 
letters, rich and beautiful. 

Thus they parted, Prince Arthur to go about his 
own work, and the Knight to fight the terrible Dragon 
that was laying waste the kingdom that belonged to 
Una's father and mother. But she, seeing how thin 
and ill her champion looked, and knowing that he was 
still weak and weary, would not hasten forward, nor 

63 



The Red Cross Knight 

let him run the chance of any further fighting, until 
he had recovered his former strength. 

As they travelled, they presently saw an armed 
knight galloping towards them. It seemed as though 
he were flying from a dreaded foe, or some other grisly 
thing. As he fled, his eyes kept looking backwards as 
if the object of his terror were pursuing him, and his 
horse flew as if it had wings to its feet. 

When he came nearer they saw that his head was 
bare, his hair almost standing on end with fright, and 
his face very pale. Round his neck was a hempen 
rope, suiting ill with his glittering armour. 

The Red Cross Knight rode up to him, but could 
scarcely prevail upon him to stop. 

"Sir Knight," he said, " pray tell us who hath 
arrayed you like this, and from whom you are flying, 
for never saw I warrior in so unseemly a plight." 

The stranger seemed dazed with fear, and at first 
answered nothing ; but after the gentle Knight had 
spoken to him several times, at last he replied with 
faltering tongue, and trembling in every limb : " I 
beseech you, Sir Knight, do not stop me, for lo ! he 
comes — he comes fast after me ! " 

With that he again tried to run away, but the Red 
Cross Knight prevented him, and tried to persuade him 
to say what was the matter. 

"Am I really safe from him who would have 
forced me to die ? " said the stranger. " May I tell 
my luckless story ? " 

"Fear nothing," said the Knight ; "no danger is 
near now." 

6 4 




So as tbes rravetlo, lo! tbe£ gan espp 
Bn armeo fcnigbt towards tbem gallop fast, 
ZTbat seemeo from some feareo foe to fty t 
©c otbec griesls tbing tbat btm agbast" 



The Knight with Hempen Rope 

Then the stranger told how he and another knight 
had lately been companions. The name of his friend 
was Sir Terwin. He was bold and brave, but because 
everything did not go exactly as he wished, he was not 
happy. One day when they were feeling very sad and 
comfortless, they met a man whose name was Despair. 
Greeting them in a friendly fashion, Despair soon con- 
trived to find out from them what they were feeling, 
and then he went on to make the worst of everything. 
He told them there was no hope that things would get 
any better, and tried to persuade them to put an end 
to all further trouble by killing themselves. To Sir 
Terwin he lent a rusty knife, and to the other knight 
a rope. Sir Terwin, who was really very unhappy, 
killed himself at once ; but Sir Trevisan, dismayed at 
the sight, fled fast away, with the rope still round his 
neck, half dead with fear. 

" May you never hear the tempting speeches of 
Despair," he ended. 

" How could idle talking persuade a man to put 
an end to his life ? " said the Red Cross Knight. He 
was ready to despise the danger, and he trusted in his 
own strength to withstand it. 

"/know," said the stranger, "for trial has lately 
taught me ; nor would I go through the like again for 
the world's wealth. His cunning, like sweetest honey, 
drops into the heart, and all else is forgotten. Before 
one knows it, all power is secretly stolen, and only 
weakness remains. Oh, sir, do not wish ever to meet 
with Despair." 

"Truly," said the Red Cross Knight, "I shall 
67 



The Red Cross Knight 

never rest till I have heard what the traitor has to 
say for himself. And, Sir Knight, I beg of you, as 
a favour, to guide me to his cabin." 

" To do you a favour, I will ride back with you 
against my will," said Sir Trevisan ; " but not for gold, 
nor for anything else will I remain with you when you 
arrive at the place. I would rather die than see his 
deadly face again." 



In the Cave of Despair 

Sir Trevisan and the Red Cross Knight soon came 
to the place where Despair had his dwelling. It was 
in a hollow cave, far underneath a craggy cliff, dark 
and dreary. On the top always perched a melancholy 
owl, shrieking his dismal note, which drove all cheerful 
birds far away. All around were dead and withered 
trees, on which no fruit nor leaf ever grew. 

When they arrived, Sir Trevisan would have fled 
in terror, not daring to go near, but the Red Cross 
Knight forced him to stay, and soothed his fears. 

They entered the gloomy cave, where they found a 
miserable man sitting on the ground, musing sullenly. 
He had greasy, unkempt locks, and dull and hollow 
eyes, and his cheeks were thin and shrunken, as if he 
never got enough to eat. His garment was nothing 
but rags, all patched, and pinned together with thorns. 
At his side lay the dead body of Sir Terwin, just as 
Sir Trevisan had told. 

When the Red Cross Knight saw this sad sight, all 

68 




" j£re long tbev. come wbere tbat same wicfceo wigbt 
Ibis dwelling bas, low in a bollow cave, 
3For unoerneatb a craggv. cliff Epigbt, 
2>arR, ooleful, orear£, like a greeov. grave, 
Gbat still for carrion carcases ootb crave/' 



In the Cave of Despair 

his courage blazed up in the desire to avenge him, and 
he said to Despair, "Wretched man ! you are the cause 
of this man's death. It is only just that you should 
pay the price of his life with your own." 

" Why do you speak so rashly ? " said Despair. 
" Does not justice teach that he should die who does 
not deserve to live ? This man killed himself by his 
own wish. Is it unjust to give to each man his due ? 
Or to let him die who hates to live longer ? Or to 
let him die in peace who lives here in trouble ? If a 
man travels by a weary, wandering way, and comes to 
a great flood between him and his wished-for home, is 
it not a gracious act to help him to pass over it ? 
Foolish man ! would you not help him to gain rest, 
who has long dwelt here in woe ? " 

Thus spoke Despair, and he said many beautiful 
and persuasive words concerning Death. And as the 
Red Cross Knight listened, all his courage and all his 
anger melted away, and it seemed to him that there 
would be no sweeter thing in the whole world than to 
lie down and be at rest. 

" What is the good of living?" said Despair. " The 
longer you live the more sins you commit. All those 
great battles that you are so proud of winning, all this 
strife and bloodshed and revenge, which are praised 
now, hereafter you will be sorry for. Has not your 
evil life lasted long enough ? He that hath once missed 
the right way, the farther he goes, the farther he goes 
wrong. Go no farther, then — stray no farther. Lie 
down here and take your rest. What has life to make 
men love it so ? Fear, sickness, age, loss, labour, 

7 1 



The Red Cross Knight 

sorrow, strife, pain, hunger, cold, and fickle fortune, 
all these, and a thousand more ills make life to be 
hated rather than loved. Wretched man ! you indeed 
have the greatest need of death if you will truly judge 
your own conduct. Never did knight who dared war- 
like deeds meet with more luckless adventures. Think 
of the deep dungeon wherein you were lately shut up ; 
how often then did you wish for death ! Though by 
good luck you escaped from there, yet death would 
prevent any further mischance into which you may 
happen to fall." 

Then Despair went on to speak to the Red Cross 
Knight of all his sins. He pointed out the many 
wrong things he had done, and said that he had been 
so faithless and wicked that there was no hope for 
him of any mercy or forgiveness. Rather than live 
longer and add to his sins, it would be better for him 
to die at once, and put an end to all. 

The Knight was greatly moved by this speech, 
which pierced his heart like a sword. Too well he 
knew that it was all true. There came to his conscience 
such a vivid memory of all his wrongdoings that all 
his strength melted away, as if a spell had bewitched 
him. When Despair saw him waver and grow weak, 
and that his soul was deeply troubled, he tried all the 
harder to drive him to utter misery. 

" Think of all your sins," he said. " God is very 
angry with you. You are not worthy to live. It is only 
just that you should die. Better kill yourself at once." 

Then Despair went and fetched a dagger, sharp and 
keen, and gave it to the Red Cross Knight. Trembling 

72 



The House of Holiness 

like an aspen-leaf, the Knight took it, and lifted up 
his hand to slay himself. 

When Una saw this, she grew cold with horror, 
but, starting forward, she snatched the knife from his 
hand, and threw it to the ground, greatly enraged. 

" Fie, fie, faint-hearted Knight ! " she cried. "What 
is the meaning of this shameful strife ? Is this the battle 
which you boasted you would fight with the horrible 
fiery Dragon ? Come, come away, feeble and faithless 
man ! Let no vain words deceive your manly heart, nor 
wicked thoughts dismay your brave spirit. Have you 
not a share in heavenly mercy ? Why should you then 
despair who have been chosen to fight the good fight P 
If there is Justice, there is also Forgiveness, which 
soothes the anguish of remorse and blots out the record 
of sin. Arise, Sir Knight, arise and leave this evil place." 

So up he rose, and straightway left the cave. When 
Despair saw this, and that his guest would safely depart 
in spite of all his beguiling words, he took a rope and 
tried to hang himself. But though he had tried to 
kill himself a thousand times, he could never do so, 
until the last day comes when all evil things shall 
perish for ever. 



How the Red Cross Knight came to the 
House of Holiness 

The bravest man who boasts of bodily strength 
may often find his moral courage fail in the hour of 
temptation. If he gain the victory, let him not 

73 



X i^ 



The Red Cross Knight 

ascribe it to his own skill, but rather to the grace 
of God. 

From what had happened in the Cave of Despair, 
Una saw that her Knight had grown faint and feeble ; 
his long imprisonment had wasted away all his strength, 
and he was still quite unfit to fight. Therefore she 
determined to bring him to a place where he might 
refresh himself, and recover from his late sad plight. 

There was an ancient house not far away, renowned 
through all the world for its goodness and holy learn- 
ing, so well was it guided and governed by a wise 
matron. Her only joy was to comfort those in trouble 
and to help the helpless poor. She was called Dame 
Celia — the " Heavenly Lady " — and she had three 
beautiful daughters, Fidelia {Faith), Speranza {Hope), 
and Charissa {Love). 

Arrived at the House of Holiness, they found the 
door fast locked, for it was warily watched, night and 
day, for fear of many foes. But when they knocked, 
the porter straightway opened to them. He was an 
aged man, with grey hair and slow footsteps ; his name 
was Htimility. They passed in, stooping low, for the 
way he showed them was strait and narrow, even as 
all good things are hardest at the beginning. But 
when they had entered they saw a spacious court, 
very pleasant to walk in. Here they were met by a 
frank, honest-looking man, called Zeal, who gladly 
acted as their guide till they came to the hall. 

The squire of the household received them, and 
made them welcome ; his name was Reverence. He 
was very gentle, modest, and sincere, always treating 

74 



The House of Holiness 

every one with the greatest kindness and courtesy, not 
from any pretended politeness, but because of his own 
good and sweet disposition. 

He conducted them to the lady of the house, who 
was busied as usual in some good works. Directly 
Dame Celia saw Una, she knew who she was ; her 
heart filled with joy, and she put her arms round her 
and kissed her. 

" Oh, happy earth," she cried, " whereon your 
innocent feet still tread ! What good fortune has 
brought you this way, or did you wander here un- 
knowingly ? It is strange to see a knight-errant in 
this place, or any other man, for there are few who 
choose the narrow path or seek the right." 

Una replied that they had come to rest their weary 
limbs, and to see the lady herself, whose fame and 
praise had reached them. 

Then Dame Celia entertained them with every 
courtesy she could think of, and nothing was lacking 
to show her generosity and wisdom. Whilst they were 
talking, two beautiful maidens came in ; they were 
Faith and Hope, the daughters of the lady. Faith 
was arrayed all in lily-white, and her face shone like 
the light of the sun ; in one hand she held a book. 
Her younger sister, Hope, was clad all in blue, and 
carried a silver anchor ; her face was not as cheerful 
as Faith's, but it was very noble and steadfast. 

Presently a servant, called Obedience, came and 
conducted the guests to their rooms, in order that they 
might rest awhile. Afterwards Una asked Faith if she 
would allow the Red Cross Knight to enter her school- 

75 



The Red Cross Knight 

house, in order that he might share in her heavenly 
learning, and hear the divine wisdom of her words. 

So the Knight went to school to learn of Faith, 
and many were the wondrous things she taught him. 
Now he saw in its true light all the error of his 
ways, and he began truly to repent of all his wrong- 
doings. The thought of them was so bitter, that he 
felt he was no longer worthy to live. 

Then came Hope with sweet comfort, and bade 
him trust steadily and not lose heart. And Dame 
Celia, seeing how unhappy he was, sent to him a 
wonderful doctor, called Patience. Thanks to his 
skill and wisdom, and to the careful nursing of his 
attendant, Repentance, the Red Cross Knight presently 
recovered, and grew well and strong again. 

After this Una took him one day to visit the third 
daughter, whose name was Love. She was so wonder- 
fully beautiful and good that there were few on earth 
to compare with her. They found her in the midst 
of a group of happy children ; she wore a yellow robe, 
and sat in an ivory chair, and at her side were two 
turtle-doves. 

Una besought Love to let the Red Cross Knight 
learn of her whatever she could teach, and to this re- 
quest Love gladly agreed. Then she began to instruct 
the Knight in all good things. She spoke to him of 
love and righteousness, and how to do well, and bade 
him shun all wrath and hatred, which are displeasing 
to God. And when she had well taught him this, she 
went on to show him the path to heaven. 

The better to guide his weak and wandering steps, 

7 6 




Gbe Ifcnigbt anfc Tftna entering fagre bee greet, 
Bn& biD ber joe ot tbat ber bappg broofc; 
IDQbo tbem requites witb court'sies seeming meet, 
BnD entertagnes witb trienfclg cbeerefull mooD." 



The City of the Great King 

she called an ancient matron, named Mercy ', well 
known for her gracious and tender ways. Into her 
careful charge Love gave the Knight, to lead in the 
right path, so that he should never fall in all his 
journeying through the wide world, but come to the 
end in safety. 

Then Mercy, taking the Knight by the hand, led 
him away by a narrow path ; it was scattered with 
bushy thorns and ragged briars, but these she always 
cleared away before him, so that nothing might hinder 
his ready passage. And whenever his footsteps were 
cumbered, or began to falter and stray, she held him 
fast, and bore him up, so that he never fell. 



The City of the Great King 

Soon after leaving the House of Holiness, the Red 
Cross Knight and his guide, Mercy, came to a hospital 
by the wayside. Some bedesmen lived here, who had 
vowed all their life to the service of the King of 
Heaven, and who spent their days in doing good. 
Their gates were always open to weary travellers, and 
one of the brothers sat waiting to call in all poor and 
needy passers-by. Each of the brothers had a separate 
duty to perform. The first had to entertain travellers ; 
the second, to give food to the needy ; the third, 
clothing to those who had none ; the fourth, to relieve 
prisoners and to redeem captives ; the fifth, to comfort 
the sick and the dying ; the sixth, to take charge of 
those who were dead, and to deck them with dainty 

79 



The Red Cross Knight 

flowers ; the seventh had to look after widows and 
orphans. Mercy was a great friend of theirs, and 
Love was the founder of their order. 

They stayed at the hospital for some time, while 
the Knight was taught all kinds of good works. He 
was very quick at learning, and soon became so perfect 
that no cause of blame or rebuke could be found 
in him. 

Leaving the hospital, he next came with his guide 
to a steep and high hill, on the top of which was a 
church, with a little hermitage close by. Here there 
dwelt an old man, called Contemplation. He spent 
all his days in prayer and meditation, never thinking 
of worldly business, but only of God and goodness. 
When he saw the travellers approaching, at first he felt 
vexed, for he thought they would distract his thoughts 
to earthly matters. But recognising Mercy, whom he 
loved and respected, he greeted them civilly, and asked 
why they had climbed that tedious height. 

" For that same purpose which every living person 
should make his aim — the wish to go to Heaven," 
replied Mercy. " Does not the path lead straight from 
here to that most glorious place which shines with 
ever-living light ? The keys were given into your hands 
by Faith, who requires that you show the lovely city 
to this knight in accordance with his desire." 

Then Contemplation took the Red Cross Knight, 
and, after the latter had fasted awhile and prayed, he 
led him to the highest part of the hill. 

From there he showed him a little path, steep and 
long, which led to a goodly city. The walls and 

80 




3from tbence, far oft be unto bim ofo sbew 
M little patb tbat was botb steepe ano long, 
IKIlbicb to a gooolg Cittg let) bis vew, 
IKllbose wals ano towres were butloeo bigb ano strong 
©f perle ano precious stone tbat eartblE tong 
Cannot describe, nor wit of man can tell." 

F 



The City of the Great King 

towers were built very high and strong, of pearl and 
precious stones, more beautiful than tongue can tell. 
It was called " The City of the Great King," and in it 
dwelt eternal peace and happiness. 

As the Knight stood gazing, he could see the 
blessed angels descending to and fro, and walking in 
the streets of the city, as friend walks with friend. At 
this he much wondered, and he began to ask what was 
the stately building that lifted its lofty towers so near 
the starry sky, and what unknown nation dwelt there. 

"Fair Knight," said his companion, "that is Jeru- 
salem — the New Jerusalem, which God has built for 
those to dwell in that are His chosen people, cleansed 
from sinful guilt by Christ, who died for the sins 
of the whole world. Now they are saints together in 
that city." 

"Until now," said the Knight, "I thought that 
the city of Queen Gloriana, whence I come, was the 
fairest that might ever be seen. But now I know 
otherwise, for that great city yonder far surpasses it." 

" Most true," said the holy man. " Yet for an 
earthly place the kingdom of Queen Gloriana is the 
fairest that eye can behold. And you, Sir Knight, 
have done good service by aiding a desolate and 
oppressed maiden. But when you have won a famous 
victory, and high amongst all knights have hung your 
shield, follow no more the pursuit of earthly conquest, 
for bloodshed and war bring sin and sorrow. Seek 
this path which I point out to you, for it will in the 
end bring you to Heaven. Go peaceably on your 
pilgrimage to the City of the Great King. A blessed 

8 3 



The Red Cross Knight 

end is ordained for you. Amongst the saints you 
shall be a saint, the friend and patron of your own 
nation. Saint George you shall be called — ' Saint 
George for merry England, the sign of Victory.' " 

"O holy Sire!" said the Knight, "how can I re- 
quite you for all that you have done for me ? " 

His eyes were dazzled by the brightness of the 
glory at which he had been gazing, so that he could 
scarcely see the ground by which to return ; so dark 
are earthly things compared with divine. 

Thanking and rewarding the good man for all his 
trouble, the Red Cross Knight returned to Una, who 
was anxiously awaiting him. ~She received him with 
joy, and after he had rested a little, she bade him be 
mindful of the task still before him. So they took 
leave of Dame Celia and her three daughters, and once 
more set out on their journey. 






The Last Fight 

At last Una and the Knight came to Una's king- 
dom, where her parents were held captive, and all the 
land lay wasted by the terrible dragon. As they drew 
near their journey's end, Una began to cheer her com- 
panion with brave words. 

"Dear Knight," she said, "who for my sake have 
suffered all these sorrows, may Heaven reward you for 
your weary toil ! Now we have come to my own 
country, and the place where all our perils dwell. 
This is the haunt of the horrible monster, therefore 

8 4 



The Last Fight 

be well on your guard and ready for the foe. Call 
up all your courage, and do better than you have ever 
done before, so that hereafter you shall be renowned 
above all knights on earth." 

At this moment they heard a hideous roaring sound, 
which filled the air, and almost shook the solid ground. 
Soon they saw the dreadful dragon where he lay stretched 
on the sunny side of a great hill. Directly he caught 
sight of the glittering armour of the Knight, he quickly 
roused himself, and hastened towards them. 

The Red Cross Knight bade Una go to a hill at 
some distance, from where she might behold the 
battle and be safe from danger. She had scarcely done 
so when the huge beast drew near, half flying, and half 
running in his haste. 

He was a dreadful creature to look at, very big, 
covered with brazen scales like a coat of steel, which 
he clashed loudly as he came. He had two immense 
wings with which he could fly, and at the point of his 
great, knotted tail were two stings, sharper than the 
sharpest steel. Worse even than these, however, were 
his cruel claws, which tore to pieces everything that 
came within their clutches. He had three rows of 
iron teeth, and his eyes, blazing with wrath, sparkled 
like living fire. 

Such was the terrible monster with whom the Red 
Cross Knight had now to do battle. 

All day they fought ; and when evening came, the 
Knight was quite worn out and almost defeated. As 
it chanced, however, close by was a spring, the waters 
of which possessed a wonderful gift of healing. The 

85 



The Red Cross Knight 

Knight was driven backwards and fell into this well. 
The dragon clapped his wings in triumph, for he 
thought he had gained the victory. But so great was 
the power of the water in this well that although the 
Knight's own strength was utterly exhausted, yet he rose 
out of it refreshed and vigorous. The dawn of the next 
day found him stronger than ever, and ready for battle. 

The name of the spring was called the Well of Life. 

All through the second day the battle lasted, and 
again, when evening came, the Knight was almost de- 
feated. But this night he rested under a beautiful 
tree laden with goodly fruit ; the name of the tree was 
the Tree of Life. From it flowed, as from a well, a 
trickling stream of balm, a perfect cure for all ills, and 
whoever ate of its fruit attained to everlasting life. 

The strength of the Red Cross Knight alone would 
never have been sufficient to overcome the terrible 
Dragon of Sin, but the water of the Well of Life, and 
the balm from the Tree of Life, gave him a power 
that nothing could resist. 

On the morning of the third day he slew the dragon. 

"Ease after War" 

The sun had scarcely risen on the third day, when 
the watchman on the walls of the brazen tower saw 
the death of the dragon. He hastily called to the 
captive King and Queen, who, coming forth, ordered 
the tidings of peace and joy to be proclaimed through 
the whole land. 

86 



\ 




Bno to tbe Ikniijbt bis oauabter oeare be t^oe 
Wiitb sacreo rites and vowes tor ever to ab^De. 



Ibis owne two banos tbe holy Rnotts Mt> fcnitt, 
Gbat none but oeatb for ever can oivuDe." 



"Ease after War" 

Then all the trumpets sounded for victory, and 
the people came flocking as to a great feast, rejoicing 
at the fall of the cruel enemy, from whose bondage 
they were now free. 

Forth from the castle came the King and Queen, 
attended by a noble company. In front marched a 
goodly band of brave young men, all able to wield 
arms, but who now bore laurel branches in sign of 
victory and peace. These they threw at the feet of 
the Red Cross Knight, and hailed him conqueror. 

Then came beautiful maidens with garlands of 
flowers and timbrels ; troops of merry children ran in 
front, dancing and singing to the sound of sweet music. 
When they reached the spot where Una stood, they 
bowed before her, and crowned her with a garland, so 
that she looked — as indeed she was — a queen. 

The King gave goodly gifts of gold and ivory to 
his brave champion, and thanked him a thousand times 
for all that he had done. Then the Red Cross Knight 
and Una were brought in triumph to the 'palace ; the 
trumpets and the clarions sounded, and all the people 
sang for joy, and strewed their garments in the w«y. 
At the palace everything was splendid and beautiful, as 
befitted a prince's court, and here a great feast was held. 

The King and Queen made their guest tell them 
all the strange adventures and perils that had befallen 
him. They listened with much interest and pity to 
his story. Then said the King : — 

" Dear son, great are the evils which you have 
borne, so that I know not whether most to praise or 
to pity you. Never has living man passed through a 



The Red Cross Knight 

sea of more deadly dangers. But since you have 
arrived safely at the shore, now let us think of ease 
and everlasting rest.' 7 

" Ah ! dearest sovereign," replied the brave Knight, 
"I may not yet think of ease or rest. For by the 
vow which I made when I first took up arms, I plighted 
myself to return to Queen Gloriana, and to serve her 
in warlike ways for six years." 

The King, when he heard this, was very sorry, but 
he knew that the vow must be kept. 

" As soon as the six years are over," said he, "you 
shall return here and marry my daughter, the Lady 
Una. I proclaimed through the world that whoever 
killed the dragon should have my only daughter to be 
his wife, and should be made heir of my kingdom. 
Since you have won the reward by noble chivalry, lo ! 
here I yield to you my daughter and my kingdom." 

Then Una stepped forward, radiant as the jnorning 
star and fair as the flowers in May. She wore a gar- 
ment of lily-white, that looked as if it were woven of 
silk and silver. The blazing brightness of her beauty 
and the glorious light of her sunshiny face can scarcely 
be told. Even her dear Knight, who had been with 
her every day, wondered at the sight. 

So the Red Cross Knight and Una were betrothed. 
Every one, young and old, rejoiced, and a solemn feast 
was held through all the land. Now, indeed, the 
Knight thought himself happy. Whenever his eye 
beheld Una, his heart melted with joy ; no wickedness 
nor envy could ever again harm their love. 

Yet even in the midst of his happiness he re- 

90 



" Ease after War " 

membered the vow he had made to return to Queen 
Gloriana. His work was not yet done, and at last the 
day came when he had to leave Una, and set forth 
again on his travels. 

We know, however, that whatever new perils lay 
before him, he would be able to overcome them all 
by the help of his heavenly armour, and that in the 
end he would be restored to Una, to dwell happily 
with her for ever. 



91 




" The Good Sir Guyon " 



Sir Guyon meets the Magician 

ARCHIMAGO, the wicked magician, who had 
► worked such mischief to Una and the Red 
Cross Knight, was very angry when he found that in 
the end all his evil wiles were defeated, and that the 
Knight and the lady were happily betrothed. He 
would willingly have brought more trouble on them, 
but he was powerless to do any harm to Una, for she 
was now safely restored to her own kingdom, and 

92 




"TUpon tbe wag Dim fortuned to meete, 
ffatre marcbtng unoerneatb a sbaoie bill, 
H aooolg IFmigbt, all armeo In barnesse meete/' 



Sir Guyon meets the Magician 

living in the care of her father and mother. He 
therefore directed all his spite against the Knight, who 
had once more to set forth on his adventures, as he 
had promised Queen Gloriana to serve her faithfully 
for six years. At the end of that time he hoped to 
return and marry Una, and the King, her father, had 
made him heir to the throne. 

Archimago, whose other name you may remember 
was Hypocrisy \ set all his wits to work to see what 
harm he could do the Knight, for he knew that, after 
all the troubles he had fallen into, he would be more 
than usually careful. He kept laying snares for him, 
and placed spies wherever he went, but the Knight had 
now become so wise and wary that he always found 
out and shunned the danger. Archimago, however, 
still kept on hoping he should find some way to hurt 
him, and at last his opportunity came. 

It happened, one day, that the enchanter saw march- 
ing to meet him a noble knight. The stranger was 
clad in shining armour and rode a splendid war-horse; 
his bearing was very stately, and his face, although 
calm and beautiful, was so stern and noble that all his 
friends loved him and his foes feared him. He was 
one of the chief knights of Queen Gloriana's court, a 
man of great honour and power in his native land. 
His name was Sir Guyon. 

As the Red Cross Knight was known as the 
Champion of Holiness, so Sir Guyon was known as 
the Knight of Tempei'ance. 

With him now there was an aged palmer or pilgrim, 
clad in black ; his hair was grey and he leant on a staff. 
To judge by his look he was a wise and grave old 

95 



Sir Guyon 

man, and he seemed to be acting as guide to the 
Knight, who carefully checked his prancing horse to 
keep pace with his slow footsteps. 

The name of the black palmer was Conscience^ and 
he went with Sir Guyon as his companion and adviser, 
somewhat in the same fashion as Prudence had gone 
as servant with the Red Cross Knight. 

When Archimago saw Sir Guyon, he immediately 
stopped him, just as on a former occasion he had 
stopped the Red Cross Knight. 

This time he had a fresh story to tell, which, of course, 
was perfectly false. He implored Sir Guyon to come 
to the help of a beautiful maiden, cruelly ill-treated by 
a rough knight, who had cut off her golden locks, 
and threatened to kill her with his sharp sword. 

" What ! " cried Sir Guyon, his gentle nature roused 
to indignation, " is the man still alive who could do 
such a deed ? " 

" He is alive, and boasts of it," said wicked 
Hypocrisy. " Nor has any other knight yet punished 
him for it." 

" Take me to him at once," said Sir Guyon. 

" That I can easily do," said Archimago. " I will 
show you where he is," and he hurried off in high glee, 
because he thought that at last he had found a way of 
revenging himself on the Red Cross Knight. 



Friend or Foe ? 

Archimago and Sir Guyon came presently to a place 
where a beautiful lady sat alone, with torn clothes and 
ruffled hair ; she was weeping bitterly and wringing her 

9 6 



Friend or Foe ? 

hands, and when Sir Guyon asked her the cause of her 
grief, she said it was because she had been most cruelly 

treated by a rough knight. 

This lady who seemed so good and gentle was, in 




reality, no other than Duessa (or Falsehood), who had 
formerly led the Red Cross Knight into such trouble. 
Her old companion, Archimago, had found her wander- 
ing forlorn in the desert whither she had been banished 

97 G 



Sir Guyon 

by Prince Arthur, and had again decked her out in fine 
clothes and ornaments, so that she might help him in 
his wicked schemes. 

Her cunning quite deceived Sir Guyon, who be- 
lieved everything she told him. 

"Be comforted, fair lady," he said, "and tell me 
who did this, so that I can punish him at once." 

" I do not know his name," she replied, " but he 
rode a dappled grey steed, and on his silver shield 
there was a red cross." 

When Sir Guyon heard this he was amazed. 

" I cannot think how that knight could have done 
such a deed," he said, " for I can say boldly he is a 
right good knight. I was present when he first took 
arms and started out to help the Lady Una, since when 
he has won great glory, as I have heard tell. Never- 
theless, he shall be made to explain this, and if he 
cannot clear himself of all blame, be sure he shall be 
well punished." 

Duessa was greatly pleased when she heard this, for 
now she hoped there would be a quarrel between the 
two knights. 

Archimago then led Sir Guyon by an unknown way 
through woods and across mountains, till they came at 
last to a pleasant dale which lay between two hills. A 
little river ran through this valley, and by it sat a knight 
with his helmet unlaced, refreshing himself with the 
cool water after his long journey and hard work. 

" Yonder is the man ! " cried Archimago. " He 
has come here thinking to hide himself, but in vain, 
for you will soon make him repent of his cruelty. 

9 8 



Friend or Foe ? 

All success to you ! We will stay here, and watch 
from a distance." 

Archimago and Duessa left Sir Guyon, who imme- 
diately rushed forward to the attack. The stranger, 
seeing a knight hurrying so fiercely towards him, seized 
his own weapons, prepared for battle, and sprang to 
meet him. The two had almost met when Sir Guyon 
suddenly lowered his spear. 

" Mercy, Sir Knight ! Mercy ! " he cried. " Pardon 
my rashness, that had almost led me to disgrace my 
honour by raising my weapon against the sacred badge 
on your shield." 

When the Red Cross Knight, for he indeed it was, 
heard the other's voice, he knew him at once. 

" Ah ! dear Sir Guyon," he said, bowing cour- 
teously, " it is I rather who should be blamed. In my 
reckless haste I almost did violence to the image of 
Queen Gloriana which I now see inscribed on your 
shield. The fault is mine ! " 

So the two knights made friends, and talked very 
happily together, and Sir Guyon explained how he 
had been cheated by Archimago and Duessa, who had 
both now fled away. Then up came Guyon's guide, 
Conscience, and as soon as his eye fell on the Red 
Cross Knight, he knew him, for he had seen him at 
the court of Queen Gloriana. 

" Joy be with you, and everlasting fame, for the 
great deeds you have done ! " he cried. " Your glorious 
name is enrolled in the heavenly register, where you have 
won a seat among the saints. But we luckless mortals 
are only now beginning to run the race in which you 

99 



Sir Guyon 

have gained such renown. "* Then to his master he said, 
" God grant you, Guyon, to end your work well, and 
bring your weary bark safely to the wished-for haven." 

"Palmer," said the Red Cross Knight, "give the 
praise to God, to whom all honour is due, and who 
made my hand the organ of His might. Attribute 
nothing to me except a willing heart ; for all that I did, 
I only did as I ought. But as for you, fair sir, whose 
turn it is now," he added to Guyon, " may you prosper 
as well as you can wish, and may we hear thrice happy 
tidings of you ; for you are indeed worthy, both in 
courage and gentle manners." 

Then the two Knights took leave of each other 
with much courtesy and goodwill. Sir Guyon went 
forward on his journey, still guided by the Black 
Palmer, who led him over hill and dale, pointing out 
the way with his staff, and by his wise judgment guard- 
ing his master from all dangers into which his own 
hasty nature might have made him fall. 



The Story of the Knight and the Lady 

After leaving the Red Cross Knight, Guyon and 
the Black Palmer (or Conscience) travelled for some 
distance, fighting and winning many battles as they 
went, which brought much honour to the Knight. 

But the chief adventure in Sir Guyon's life began 
in this way : 

One day, passing through a forest, they heard 
sounds of bitter weeping and lamentation. 

ioo 



? 



The Knight and the Lady 

" If I cannot be revenged for all my misery," cried 
a voice, " at least nothing can prevent my dying. 
Come then, come soon, come, sweetest death ! But, 
thou, my babe, who hast seen thy father's fall, long 
mayest thou live, and thrive better than thy unhappy 
parents. Live to bear witness that thy mother died 
for no fault of her own." 

When Sir Guyon heard these piteous words, he 
dismounted, and rushed into the thicket, where he 
found a beautiful lady dying on the ground. In her 
arms there was a lovely baby, and the dead body of an 
armed knight lay close beside them. 

Horrified at the sight, Sir Guyon did all he could 
to restore the lady to life, but she begged him to 
leave her alone to die in peace ; her sorrows, she said, 
were more than she could bear, and therefore she had 
tried to kill herself. 

" Dear lady," said Sir Guyon, " all that I wish is 
to comfort you, and to bring you some relief, there- 
fore tell me the cause of your misfortune." 

" Listen, then," she answered. " This dead man, 
the gentlest, bravest knight that ever lived, was my 
husband, the good Sir Mordant. One day he rode 
forth, as is the custom of knights, to seek adventures, 
and it chanced most unhappily he came to the place 
where the wicked Acrasia lives — Acrasia, the false 
enchantress, who has brought ruin on so many knights. 
Her dwelling is within a wandering island, in Perilous 
Gulf. Fair sir, if ever you travel there, shun the 
hateful place ! I will tell you the name — it is called 
the Bower of Bliss. Acrasia's one aim in life is 

IOI 



Sir Guyon 

Pleasure. In the Bower of Bliss nothing is thought 
of but eating and drinking, and every kind of luxury 
and extravagance. All those who come within it for- 
get everything good and noble, and care for nothing 
but to amuse themselves. When my dear knight 
never returned to me, I set forth in search of him, 
and here I found him, a captive to the spells of Acrasia. 
At first he did not even know me ; but by-and-by, 
with great care, I brought him back to a better state of 
mind, and persuaded him to leave the Bower of Bliss. 
But the wicked enchantress, angry at losing one of her 
victims, gave him a parting cup of poison, and stooping 
to drink at this well, he suddenly fell dead. When 

I saw this " Here the lady's own words failed, 

and, lying down as if to sleep, quiet death put an end 
to all her sorrow. 

Sir Guyon felt such grief at what had happened 
that he could scarcely keep from weeping. Turn- 
ing to the Palmer, he said : " Behold here this image 
of human life, when raging passion like a fierce 
tyrant robs reason of its proper sway. The strong 
it Aveakens, and the weak it fills with fury ; the 
strong (like this Knight) fall soonest through excess of 
pleasure ; the weak (like this Lady) through excess of 
grief. But Temperance with a golden rule can measure 
out a medium between the two, neither to be overcome 
by pleasure, nor to give way to despair. Thrice happy 
man who can tread evenly between them ! But, since 
this wretched lady did wrong through grief, and not 
from wickedness, it is not for us to judge her. Let 
us give her an honourable burial. Death comes to all, 

102 



The Knight and the Lady 




the good and the bad alike, 
and, after death, each must answer 
for his own deeds. But both alike should have a 
fitting burial." 

So Sir Guyon and the Black Palmer dug a grave 
under the cypress-trees, and here they tenderly placed 
the dead bodies of the Knight and the Lady, and bade 
them sleep in everlasting peace. And before they left 
the spot, Sir Guyon swore a solemn vow that he would 
avenge the hapless little orphan child for the death of 
his parents. 

103 



Sir Guyon 



The Three Sisters 

After the burial of the Knight and the Lady, Sir 
Guyon gave the little baby into the care of the Palmer, 
and, lading himself with the heavy armour of the dead 
Sir Mordant, the two started again on their journey. 
But when they came to the place where Sir Guyon 
had left his steed, with its golden saddle and costly 
trappings, they found, to their surprise and vexation, 
that it had quite disappeared. They were obliged, 
therefore, to go forward on foot. 

By-and-by they came to a famous old Castle, built 
on a rock near the sea. In this castle lived three 
sisters, who were so different in character that they 
could never agree. The eldest and the youngest were 
always quarrelling, and they were both as disagreeable 
as possible to the middle sister. Elissa, the eldest, was 
very harsh and stern ; she always looked discontented, 
and she despised every kind of pleasure or merriment. 
It was useless ever to attempt to make her smile ; she 
was always frowning and scolding in a way not at all 
becoming to any gentle lady. 

Perissa, the youngest sister, was just as bad in the 
other direction ; she cared for nothing but amusement, 
and was so full of laughter and play that she forgot all 
rules of right and reason, and became quite thoughtless 
and silly. She spent all her time in eating, and drink- 
ing, and dressing herself up in fine clothes. 

These two sisters showed the evil of two extremes ; 
but the middle sister, Medina, or " Golden Mean" as 

104 




44 ♦ ♦ . Bt last tbeg to a Castle came, 
$uilt on a rocfce a&jogning to tbe seas/' 



The Three Sisters 

she was sometimes called, was the type of moderation, 

and all that was right and proper. She was sweet, 
and gracious, and womanly ; not harsh and stern, like 
Elissa, nor yet heedless and silly, like Perissa. She 
dressed richly, but quietly, and her clothes suited her 
well : they were different alike from Elissa's stinginess 
and Perissa's extravagance. 

When Medina saw Sir Guyon approaching the 
castle, she met him on the threshold, and led him in 
like an honoured guest. But her sisters were very 
angry when they heard of his arrival. There were two 
other visitors at the castle just then, and they also 
were very angry. Sir Hudibras was a friend of the 
eldest sister. He was very savage and sullen, slow- 
witted, but big and strong. Sans-loy, or Lawless, was 
the friend of the youngest sister. He was the same 
Lawless who had been so cruel to poor Una, and he 
was just as bold and unruly now as he had been then, 
and he never cared what wrong he did to any one. 

These two hated each other, and were always 
quarrelling, but when they heard of the coming of 
the stranger knight, they both flew to attack him. 
On the way, however, they began fighting with each 
other, and, hearing the noise, Sir Guyon ran to try to 
stop them, whereupon they both turned upon him. 
The two sisters stood by, and encouraged them to go 
on fighting ; but Medina ran in amongst them, and 
entreated them to stop. Her gentle words at last ap- 
peased their anger, and they laid down their weapons, 
and consented to make friends. 

Then Medina invited them all to a feast, which 
107 



Sir Gu 



yon 



she had prepared in honour of Sir Guyon. Elissa and 
Perissa came very unwillingly, though they attempted 
to hide their grudging and envy under a pretence of 
cheerfulness. One sister thought the entertainment 
provided far too much, and the other sister thought 
it far too little. Elissa would scarcely speak or eat 
anything, while Perissa chattered and ate far more 
than was right or proper. 

After the feast, Medina begged Sir Guyon to tell 
them the story of his adventures, and to say on what 
quest he was now bound. 

Then Sir Guyon told them all about the court of 
the Faerie Queene, Gloriana, and how he had sworn 
service to her, and promised to go out into the world 
to fight every kind of evil. The task he had now in 
hand was to find out the wicked enchantress, Acrasia, 
and to destroy her dwelling, for she had done more 
bad deeds than could be told, and, among them, had 
brought about the deaths of the father and mother of 
the poor little baby he had taken under his care. 

By the time Sir Guyon's tale was finished the night 
was far spent, and all the guests in the castle betook 
themselves to rest. 



Braggadochio 

As soon as it was dawn, Sir Guyon arose, and, 
mindful of his appointed work, armed himself again 
for the journey. 

The little baby whom he had rescued he entrusted 
108 



Braggadochio 

to the tender care of Medina, entreating ber to train 
him up as befitted his noble birth/ Then, since his 
good steed had been stolen from him, he and the 
Palmer fared forward on foot. 

It will be remembered that when Sir Guyon heard 
the cries for help of the Lady Amavia, he dismounted, 
and ran into the thicket, leaving his horse outside. 
While he was absent, there wandered that way an idle, 
worthless fellow, called Braggadochio. This was a man 
who never did anything great or good, but who was 
extremely vain and boastful, and always trying to make 
out that he was somebody grand. When he saw the 
beautiful horse with its golden saddle and rich trappings, 
and Sir Guyon's spear, he immediately took possession 
of them, and hurried away. He was so puffed up with 
self-conceit that he felt now as if he were really some 
noble knight, and he hoped that every one else would 
think the same of him. He determined to go first to 
court, where he thought such a gallant show would at 
once attract notice and gain him favour. 

Braggadochio had never been trained in chivalry ; 
he rode very badly, and could not manage Sir Guyon's 
splendid high-spirited horse in the least. He managed, 
however, to stick on somehow, and presently, seeing a 
man sitting on a bank by the roadside, and wishing to 
show off, he rode at him, pretending to aim at him with 
his spear. The silly fellow fell flat down with fear, 
crying out for mercy. Braggadochio was very proud 
and delighted at this, and shouted at him in a loud 
voice, " Die, or yield thyself my captive ! " The man 
was so terrified that he promised at once to become 

109 



Sir Guyon 

Braggadochio's servant. So the two went on together. 
They were excellently well suited, for both were vain, 
and false, and cowardly, while Braggadochio tried to get 
his own way by bluster, and his companion by cunning. 




Trompart (or Deceit), for that was the man's name, 
speedily discovered the folly of his master. He was 
very wily-witted and well accustomed to every form of 
cunning trickery, and, to suit his own purpose, he 
flattered up Braggadochio, and did all he could to 
encourage his idle vanity. 

no 



Braggadochio 

Presently, as the two went along, they met the 
wicked magician, Archimago (or Hypocrisy), who was 
now just as angry with Sir Guyon as he had been before 
with the Red Cross Knight. When he saw Bragga- 
dochio, he thought he had found a good opportunity 
to be revenged on both the knights, and, going up to 
him, he asked if he would be willing to fight them. 

Braggadochio immediately pretended to fall into a 
great rage against them, and said he would slay them 
both. Then Archimago, seeing that he had no sword, 
warned him that he must arm himself with the very 
best weapons, for they were two of the mightiest war- 
riors living. 

" Silly old man ! " said Braggadochio boastfully. 
" Stop giving advice. Isn't one brave man enough, 
without sword or shield, to make an army quail ? You 
little know what this right hand can do. Once, when 
I killed seven knights with one sword, I swore thence- 
forward never to wear a sword in battle again, unless it 
could be the one that the noblest knight on earth wears." 

" Good ! " said the magician quickly ; " that sw T ord 
you shall have very shortly. For now the best and 
noblest knight alive is Prince Arthur, who lives in the 
land of the Faerie Queene. He has a sword that is like 
a flaming brand. I will undertake that, by my devices, 
this sword is found to-morrow at your side." 

At these words the boaster began to quake, for he 
could not think who it was that spoke like this. Then 
Archimago suddenly vanished, for the north wind, at 
his command, carried him away, lifting him high into 
the air. 

ii i 



Sir Guyon 

Braggadochio and Deceit looked all about, but could 
find no trace of him. Nearly dead with fright, they 
both fled, never turning to look round till, at last, they 
came to a green forest where they hid themselves. Even 
here fear followed them, and every trembling leaf and 
rustle of the wind made their hair stand on end. 



Fury's Captive 

As Sir Guyon and his guide, the Black Palmer, 
went on their way, they presently saw at some distance 
what seemed to be a great uproar and commotion. 
Hurrying near, they found a big savage man dragging 
along and beating a handsome youth. An ugly old 
woman followed them, shouting and railing, and 
urging the man not to let go the youth, but to treat 
him worse and worse. 

The name of the bad man was Fury; the old 
woman was his mother, and was called Occasion. The 
youth was a young squire, named Phaon. 

Fury had Phaon completely in his power, but in 
his blind and senseless rage he scarcely knew what he 
was about, and spent half his force in vain. He often 
struck wide of the mark, and frequently hurt himself 
unawares, like a bull rushing at random, not knowing 
where he hits and not caring whom he hurts. 

When Sir Guyon saw the sad plight of the young 
squire, he ran to help him ; but Fury grappled with 
the Knight and flung him to the ground. Sir Guyon 
sprang to his feet, and drew his sword, but, seeing this, 

112 




U mao man, or tbat feigned mao to bee, 
Drew b£ tbe baire along upon tbe growno 
H banosom stripling witb great crueltee, 
limbom sore be bett." 



H 



Fury's Captive 

the Palmer cried, " Not so, O Guyon ; never think the 
monster can be mastered or destroyed in that fashion. 
He is not a foe to be wounded by steel or overthrown 
by strength. This cruel wretch is Fury, who works 
much woe and shame to knighthood. That old hag, his 
mother, is the cause of all his wrath and spite. Whoever 
will conquer Fury, must first get hold of Occasion and 
master her. When she is got rid of, or strongly with- 
stood, Fury himself is easily managed. But she is very 
difficult to catch, for her hair hangs so thickly over her 
eyes, it is often impossible to know her, and when she 
has once slipped past, you can never overtake her." 

When Sir Guyon heard this, he left Fury and went 
to catch Occasion. All happened as the Palmer said. 
Directly the wicked old woman was captured, and her 
angry tongue silenced, her son turned to fly. Sir Guyon 
followed, and soon made him prisoner ; but even when 
bound in iron chains, Fury kept grinding and gnash- 
ing his teeth, shaking his copper-coloured locks, and 
threatening revenge. 

Then Sir Guyon turned to the young squire, and 
asked him how he had fallen into the power of such a 
wretch. 

Phaon said all his misfortunes arose from his giving 
way to wrath and jealousy. He had a dear friend, about 
whom malicious stories were told, and without waiting 
to find out whether or not they were true, he killed 
this friend in sudden anger. When he discovered that 
he had been misled, and that his friend was innocent, 
he was filled with grief, and swore to be revenged on 
the two people who had deceived him. To one he gave 

IJ 5 



Sir Gu 



yon 



a deadly draught of poison, and the other he was 
pursuing with a drawn sword, when he himself was 
overtaken by Fury, who completely mastered him. 

" As long as I live," he ended, " I shall never get 
over the agony caused me by Grief and Fury." 

" Squire," said Sir Guyon, " you have suffered much, 
but all your ills may be softened if you do not give 
way to such violence." 

Then said the Palmer, "Wretched is the man who 
never learns to govern his passions. At first they are 
feeble and can be easily managed, but through lack of 
control they lead to fearful results. Fight against them 
while they are young, for when they get strong they 
do their best to overcome all the good in you. Un- 
governed wrath, jealousy, and grief have been the cause 
of this squire's downfall." 

" Unlucky Phaon," said Sir Guyon ; " since you 
have fallen into trouble through your hot, impatient 
disposition, henceforth take heed, and govern your ways 
carefully, less a worse evil come upon you." 

While Sir Guyon spoke, they saw far off a man 
running towards them, whose flying feet went so fast 
that he was almost hidden in a cloud of dust. 



The Anger of Fire 

The man soon reached Sir Guyon and the Palmer, 
hot, panting, and breathless. He was a bold-looking 
fellow, not in the least abashed by Sir Guyon, but 
casting scornful glances at him. 

116 



The Anger of Fire 

Behind his back he bore a brazen shield, which 
looked as if it belonged to some famous knight. On it 
was drawn the picture of a flaming fire, round which were 
the words " Burnt ', I do bum" In his hand the man 
carried two sharp and slender darts, tipped with poison. 

When he came near, he said boldly to Guyon, " Sir 
Knight — if you be a knight — I advise you to leave this 
place at once, in case of further harm. If you choose 
to stay, you do so. at your own peril ! " 

Sir Guyon wondered at the fellow's boldness, though 
he scorned his idle vanity. He asked him mildly why 
any harm should come to him if he remained. 

" Because," replied the man, " there is now coming, 
and close at hand, a knight of wondrous power, who 
never yet met an enemy without doing him deadly 
harm, or frightening him dreadfully. You need not 
hope for any better fate, if you choose to stay." 

" What is his name ? " said Sir Guyon, " and where 
does he come from ? " 

" His name is Pyrocles, which means the Anger of 
Fire" was the answer, " and he is called so from his 
hot and cruel temper. He is the brother of Cymocks, 
which means the Anger of the Sea- Waves, for Cymocles 
is wild and revengeful. They are the sons of Malice 
and Intemperance. I am Strife ', the servant of Pyrocles, 
and I find work for him to do and stir him up to mis- 
chief. Fly, therefore, from this dreadful place, or your 
foolhardiness may bring you into danger." 

" Never mind about that," said Sir Guyon, " but 
tell me whither you are now bound. For it must be 
some great reason that makes you in such a hurry." 

117 



Sir Gu 



yon 



" My master has sent me to seek out Occasion," said 
Strife. ''He is furious to fight, and woe betide the 
man who first falls in his way." 

"You must be mad," said the Palmer, " to seek 
out Occasion and cause for strife. She comes unsought, 
and follows even when shunned. Happy the man who 
can keep away from her." 

"Look," said Sir Guyon, "yonder she sits, bound. 
Take that message to your master." 

At this Strife grew very angry, and seizing one of 
his darts, he hurled it at Sir Guyon. The Knight 
caught it on his shield, whereupon Strife fled away, 
and was soon lost to sight. 

Not long after, Sir Guyon saw a fierce-looking 
knight riding swiftly towards him. His armour 
sparkled like fire, and his horse was bright red, and 
champed and chafed at his bit as his master spurred 
him roughly forward. This was Pyrocles. 

Not waiting to speak, he furiously attacked Sir 
Guyon, but after a sharp battle he was utterly defeated, 
and obliged to beg for mercy. 

This Sir Guyon courteously granted, and asked the 
reason why Pyrocles had attacked him so fiercely. 

The knight replied it was because he heard that 
Sir Guyon had taken captive a poor old woman, and 
chained her up. He demanded that she and her son 
Fury should be set free. 

" And is that all that has so sorely displeased you ? " 
said Sir Guyon, smiling. " There they are ; I hand 
them over to you." 

Pyrocles, delighted, rushed to set free the captives, 
118 




1be bololg spake, 'Sir Iftnigbt, if knight tfoou bee, 
Bbanoon tbis forestalled place at erst, 
3for fear of furtber barme, 5 counsell tbee, 
©r bioe tbe cbaunce at tbine owne jeoparoie/ " 



The Idle Lake 

but they were scarcely untied before their rage and 
spite burst forth with double fury. They did every- 
thing they could to make Pyrocles and Sir Guyon fight 
again. They not only railed against Sir Guyon for 
being the conqueror, but also against Pyrocles for allow- 
ing himself to be conquered. 

Sir Guyon stood apart and refused to be drawn 
into the quarrel ; but Pyrocles could not help getting 
enraged, and he and Fury were soon in the midst of a 
terrible fight. 

Seeing that Pyrocles was getting the worst of it, 
Sir Guyon would have gone to his help, but the Palmer 
held him back, and refused to let him interfere. 

" No," he said firmly, " it is idle for you to pity 
him. He has brought this trouble upon himself by 
his own folly and wilfulness, and he must now bear 
the punishment." 

So, as there was nothing more to be done, Sir Guyon 
and the Palmer started again on their journey. 



The Idle Lake 

In the course of their journey, Sir Guyon and the 
Palmer came at last to the shores of a great lake. The 
water of this lake was thick and sluggish, unmoved by 
any wind or tide. In the midst of it floated an island, 
a lovely plot of fertile land, set like a little nest among 
the wide waves. The island was full of dainty herbs 
and flowers, beautiful trees with spreading branches, 
and with birds singing sweetly on every branch. But 

121 



Sir Guyon 

everything there — the flowers, the trees, and the sing- 
ing birds — only served to tempt weak-minded people 
to be slothful and lazy. Lying on the soft grass in 
some shady dell, they forgot there was any such thing 
as work or duty, and cared for nothing but to sleep 
away the time in idle dreams. 

Up to the present, Sir Guyon had only had to face 
adventures of a stern and painful kind, but now he was 
to be put to quite a different test. Would he fall a 
prey to the sloth and luxury of this island, or would 
he remain faithful to his knightly duty ? 

When Sir Guyon and his companion, Conscience, 
came to the shore of the lake, they saw, floating near, 
a little gondola, all decked with boughs. In the 
gondola sat a beautiful lady, amusing herself by sing- 
ing and laughing loudly. She came at once when 
Guyon called, and offered to ferry him across the lake ; 
but when the Knight was in the boat, she refused to 
let the Palmer get in, and neither money nor entreaties 
would induce her to take the old man with them. Sir 
Guyon was very unwilling to leave his guide behind, 
but he could not go back, for the boat, obeying the 
lady's wish, shot away more swiftly than a swallow flies. 
It needed no oar nor pilot to guide it, nor any sails to 
carry it with the wind ; it knew how to go exactly 
where its owner wanted, and could save itself both 
from rocks and shoals. 

The name of the lady in the gondola was Phasdria ; 
she was one of the servants of the wicked enchantress, 
Acrasia, whom Sir Guyon was now on his way to attack. 
She hoped that the beautiful island would entrap the 

122 




"JSut wbenas Gu^on of tbat lano bao sight, 
fbc wist bimselte amisse, ano align? sato ; 
1 Bb, Bame ! peros ve bave not ooen me rigbt, 
Cbus to misleao mee, wbilcs 3- ^011 obato: 
/foee title neeoeo trom m^ rigbt \va^ to bav>e strait).' M 



The Idle Lake 

Knight, and make him delay his journey and forget his 
purpose. 

On the way, as was her custom, she began joking 
and laughing loudly, thinking this would amuse her 
guest. Sir Guyon was so kind and courteous that he 
was quite ready to join in any real merriment ; but 
when he saw his companion grow noisier and sillier 
every moment, he began to despise her and did not care 
to share her foolish attempts at fun. But she went on 
still in the same manner till at last they reached the 
island. 

When Sir Guyon saw this land, he knew he was 
out of his way, and was very angry. 

"Lady," he said, "you have not done right to me, 
to mislead me like this, when I trusted you. There 
was no need for me to have strayed from my right way." 

" Fair sir," she said, " do not be angry. He who 
travels on the sea cannot command his way, nor order 
wind and weather at his pleasure. The sea is wide, 
and it is easy to stray on it ; the wind is uncertain. 
But here you may rest awhile in safety, till the season 
serves to attempt a new passage. Better be safe in 
port than on a rough sea," she ended laughingly. 

Sir Guyon was not at all pleased, but he checked 
his anger and stepped on shore. Phaedria at once began 
to show off all the delights of the island, which grew 
in beauty wherever she went. The flowers sprang 
freshly, the trees burst into bud and early blossom, 
and a whole chorus of birds broke into song. And 
the lady, more sweetly than any bird on bough, would 
often sing with them, surpassing, as she easily could, 

125 



Sir Guyon 

their native music with her skilful art. She strove, 
by every device in her power, so to charm Sir Guyon 
that he would forget all deeds of daring and his 
knightly duty. 

But Sir Guyon was wise, and took care not to be 
carried away by these delights, though he would not 
seem so rude as to despise anything that a gentle lady 
did to give him pleasure. He spoke many times of 
his desire to leave, but she kept on making excuses 
to delay his journey. 

Now it happened that Phasdria had already allured 
to the island another knight. This was Cymocles, 
whose name means the Anger of the Sea. He was 
the brother of Pyrocles {the Anger of Fire), whom 
you may remember Sir Guyon had already fought and 
conquered. Cymocles had been sunk in a heavy sleep 
when Sir Guyon arrived, but when he woke up and 
discovered the new-comer, he flew at once into a 
furious rage, and rushed to attack him. 

Sir Guyon, of course, was quite ready to defend 
himself, and Cymocles soon found that he had never 
before met such a powerful foe. The fight between 
them was so terrible that Phaedria, overcome with pity 
and dismay, rushed forward, and implored them, for 
her sake, to stop. She blamed herself as the cause of 
all the mischief, and entreated them not to disgrace 
the name of knighthood by strife and cruelty, but to 
make peace and be friends. 

So great is the power of gentle words to a brave 
and generous heart, that at her speech their rage began 
to relent. When all was over, Sir Guyon again begged 

126 



The Realm of Pluto 

the lady to let him depart, and to give him passage to 
the opposite shore. She was now quite as glad as he 
was for him to go, for she saw that all her folly and 
vain delights were powerless to tempt him from his 
duty, and she did not want her selfish ease and pleasure 
to be troubled with terror and the clash of arms. So 
she bade him get into the little boat again, and soon 
conveyed him swiftly to the farther strand. 



The Realm of Pluto 

Sir Guyon having lost his trusty guide, who was 
left behind on the shore of the Idle Lake, had now to 
go on his way alone. At last he came to a gloomy 
glade, where the thick branches and shrubs shut away 
the daylight. There, lurking in the shade, he found 
a rude, savage man, very ugly and unpleasant-looking. 
His face was tanned with smoke, his eyes dull, his 
head and beard streaked with soot, his hands were 
coal-black, as if burnt at a smith's forge, and his nails 
were like claws. 

His iron coat, all overgrown with rust, was lined 
with gold, which, though now darkened with dirt, 
seemed as if it had been formerly a work of rich and 
curious design. In his lap he counted over a mass of 
coin, feasting his eyes and his covetous wishes with 
the sight of his huge treasury. Round about on every 
side lay great heaps of gold, which could never be 
spent : some were the rough ore, others were beaten 
into great ingots and square wedges ; some were 

127 



Sir Guyon 

round plates, without mark of any kind, but most 
were stamped, and bore the ancient and curious in- 
scription of some king or emperor. 

As soon as the man saw Sir Guyon, he rose, in great 
haste and fright, to hide his mounds of treasure, and 
began with trembling hands to pour them through a 
wide hole into the earth. But Sir Guyon, though he 
was himself dismayed at the sight, sprang lightly for- 
ward to stop him. 

" Who are you that live here in the desert, and 
hide away from people's sight, and from their proper 
use, all these rich heaps of wealth ? " he asked. 

Looking at him with great disdain, the man replied, 
" You are very rash and heedless of yourself, Sir 
Knight, to come here to trouble me, and my heaps of 
treasure. I call myself ' King of this world and 
worldlings ' — Great Mammon — the greatest power on 
earth. Riches, renown, honour, estate, and all the 
goods of this world, for which men incessantly toil 
and moil, flow forth from me in abundance. If you 
will deign to serve and follow me, all these mountains 
of gold shall be at your command, and, if these will 
not suffice, you shall have ten times as much." 

" Mammon," said the Knight, " your boast of 
kingship is in vain, and your bribe of golden wages is 
useless. Offer your gifts to those who covet such 
dazzling gain. It would ill befit me, who spend my 
days in deeds of daring and pursuit of honour, to pay 
any attention to the tempting baits with which you 
bewitch weak men. Any desire for worldly dross 
mixes badly with, and debases the true heroic spirit 

128 



The Realm of Pluto 




which joys in fighting for crowns and kingdoms. Fair 
shields, gay steeds, bright armour are my delight. 
These are the riches fit for a venturous knight." 

Mammon went on trying to tempt the Knight with 
all sorts of alluring promises, but Sir Guyon stood 
firm. He pointed out the evils that had come through 

129 1 



Sir Gu 



yon 



riches, which he considered the root of all unquietness 
— first got with guile — then kept with dread, after- 
wards spent with pride and lavishness, and leaving 
behind them grief and heaviness. They were the 
cause of infinite mischief, strife and debate, bloodshed 
and bitterness, wrong-doing and covetousness, which 
noble hearts despise as dishonour. Innocent people 
were murdered, kings slain, great cities sacked and 
burnt, and other evils, too many to mention, were 
caused by riches. 

"Son," said Mammon at last, " let be your scorn, 
and leave the wrongs done in the old days to those 
who lived in them. You who live in these later times 
must work for wealth, and risk your life for gold. 
If you choose to use what I offer you, take what you 
please of all this abundance ; if you don't choose, you 
are free to refuse it, but do not afterwards blame the 
thing you have refused." 

" I do not choose to receive anything," replied the 
Knight, " until I am sure that it has been well come 
by. How do I know but what you have got these 
goods by force or fraud from their rightful owners ? " 

" No eye has ever yet seen, nor tongue counted, 
nor hand handled them," said Mammon. "I keep 
them safe hidden in a secret place. Come and see." 

Then Mammon led Sir Guyon through the thick 
covert, and found a dark way which no man could 
spy, that went deep down into the ground, and was 
compassed round with dread and horror. At length 
they came into a larger space, that stretched into a wide 
plain ; a broad beaten highway ran across this, leading 

130 



The Realm of Pluto 

straight to the grisly realm of Pluto, ruler of the 
Lower Regions. 

It was indeed a horrible road. By the wayside sat 
fiendish Vengeance and turbulent Strife, one brandish- 
ing an iron whip, the other a knife, and both gnashing 
their teeth and threatening the lives of those who went 
by. On the other side, in one group, sat cruel Revenge 
and rancorous Spite, disloyal Treason and heart-burning 
Hate ; but gnawing Jealousy sat alone out of their 
sight, biting his lips ; and trembling Fear ran to and 
fro, finding no place where he might safely shroud 
himself. Lamenting Sorrow lay in the darkness, and 
Shame hid his ugly face from living eye. Over tl^m 
always fluttered grim Horror, beating h'^ \ L on wings, 
and after him flew owls and night-ravens, messengers 
of evil tidings, while a Harpy — a hideous bird of ill 
omen — sitting on a cliff near, sang a song of bitter 
sorrow that would have broken a heart of flint, and 
when it was ended flew swiftly after Horror. 

All these lay before the gates of Pluto, and passing 
by, Sir Guyon and Mammon said nothing to them, 
but all the way wonder fed the eyes and filled the 
thoughts of Sir Guyon. 

At last Mammon brought him to a little door that 
was next adjoining to the wide-open gate of Hades, 
and nothing parted them ; there was only a little stride 
between them, dividing the House of Riches from the 
mouth of the Lower Regions. 

Before the door sat self-consuming Care, keeping 
watch and ward, day and night, for fear lest Force or 
Fraud should break in, and steal the treasure he was 

131 



Sir Guyon 

guarding. Nor would he allow Sleep once to come 
near, although his drowsy den was next. 

Directly Mammon arrived, the door opened, and 
gave passage to him. Sir Guyon still kept following, 
for neither darkness nor danger could dismay him. 



The Cave of Mammon 

As soon as Mammon and Sir Guyon entered the 
House of Riches, the door immediately shut of itself, 
and from behind it leapt forth an ugly fiend, who 
followed them wherever they went. He kept an eager 
watch oil Guyon, hoping that before long the Knight 
would lay a covetous hand on some of the treas ^res, 
in which case he was ready to tear him to pieced with 
his claws. 

The form of the house inside was rude and strong, 
like a huge cave hewn out of the cliff; from cracks in 
the rough vault hung lumps of gold, and every rift 
was laden with rich metal, so that they seemed ready 
to fall in pieces, while high above all the spider spun 
her crafty web, smothered in smoke and clouds blacker 
than jet. The roof, and floor, and walls were all of 
gold, but covered with dust and hid in darkness, so 
that no one could see the colour of it ; for the cheer- 
ful daylight never came inside that house, only a faint 
shadow of uncertain light, like a dying lamp. Nothing 
was to be seen but great iron chests and strong coffers, 
all barred with double bands of metal, so that no one 
could force them open by violence ; but all the ground 

132 



The Cave of Mammon 

was strewn with the bones of dead men, who had lost 
their lives in that place, and were now left there 
unburied. 

They passed on, and Guyon spoke not a word till 
they came to an iron door, which opened to them of 
its own accord, and showed them such a store of riches 
as the eye of man had never seen before. 

Then Mammon, turning to the warrior, said, " Be- 
hold here the world's happiness ! Behold here the end 
at which all men aim, to be made rich ! Such favour 
— to be happy — is now laid before you." 

"I will not have your offered favour," said the 
Knight, " nor do I intend to be happy in that way. 
Before my eyes I place another happiness, another end. 
To those that take pleasure in them, I resign these 
base things. But I prefer to spend my fleeting hours 
in fighting and brave deeds, and would rather be lord 
over those who have riches than have them myself, 
and be their slave." 

At that the fiend gnashed his teeth, and was angry 
because he was kept so long from his prey, for he 
thought that so glorious a bait would surely have 
tempted his guest. Had it done so, he would have 
snatched him away lighter than a dove in a falcon's 
claws. 

But, when Mammon saw he had missed his object, 
he thought of another way to entrap the Knight un- 
awares. He led him away into another room where 
there were a hundred furnaces burning fiercely. By 
every furnace were many evil spirits horrible to see, 
busily engaged in tending the fires, or working with 

^33 



Sir Guyon 

the molten metal. When they saw Guyon they all 
stood stock still to wonder at him, for they had never 
seen such a mortal before ; he was almost afraid of 
their staring eyes and hideous figures. 

" Behold what living eye has never seen before," 
said Mammon. " Here is the fountain of the world's 
good. If, therefore, you will be rich, be well advised 
and change your wilful mood, lest hereafter you may 
wish and not be able to have." 

" Let it suffice that I refuse all your idle offers," 
said Guyon. " All that I need I have. Why should 
I covet more than I can use ? Keep such vain show 
for your worldlings, but give me leave to follow my 
quest." 

Mammon was much displeased, but he led him 
forward, to entice him further. He brought him 
through a dark and narrow way to a broad gate, built 
of beaten gold. The gate was open, but there stood 
in front of it a sturdy fellow, very bold and defiant- 
looking. In his right hand he held an iron club, but 
he himself seemed as if he were made of gold. His 
name was Disdain. When he saw Guyon he brandished 
his club, but Mammon bade him be still, and led his 
guest past him. 

He took him into a large place, like some solemn 
temple ; great golden pillars upheld the massive roof, 
and every pillar was decked with crowns and diadems, 
such as princes wore while reigning on earth. A 
crowd of people of every sort and nation were there 
assembled, all pressing with a great uproar to the 
upper part, where was placed a high throne. On it 

134 




JSebolo tbou 3f aeries gonne, witb mortall ege, 
ftbat living ege before fcio never see: 



1bere is tbe fountaine of tbe worlfces gooo: 
1Klow, tberefore, if tbon wilt enricbeo bee, 
Bvise tbee well, ano cbaunge tbp. wilfull mooo," 



The Cave of Mammon 

sat a woman, clad in gorgeous robes of royalty. Her 
face seemed marvellously fair ; her beauty threw such 
brightness round that all men could see it ; it was not 
all her own, however, but was partly made up by art. 

As she sat there, glittering, she held a great gold 
chain, the upper end of which reached high into heaven, 
and the other end deep down into the lower regions ; 
and all the crowd around her pressed to catch hold of 
that chain, to climb aloft by it, and excel others. 

The name of the chain was Ambition, and every 
link was a step of dignity. Some thought to raise 
themselves to a high place by riches, some by pushing, 
some by flattery, some by friends — and all by wrong 
ways, for those that were up themselves kept others 
low, and those that were low held tight hold of others, 
not letting them rise, while every one strove to throw 
down his companions. 

When Guyon saw this he began to ask what all 
the crowd meant, and who was the lady that sat on 
the throne. 

" That goodly person, round whom every one 
flocks, is my dear daughter," said Mammon. " From 
her alone come honour and dignity, and this world's 
happiness, for which all men struggle, but which few 
get. She is called Philotime, the Love of Honour, 
and she is the fairest lady in the world. Since you 
have found favour with me, I will make her your wife, 
if you like, that she may advance you, because of your 
work and just merits." 

" I thank you much, Mammon," said the gentle 
Knight, " for offering me such favour, but I am only 

137 



Sir Guyon 

a mortal, and, I know well, an unworthy match for such 
a wife. And, if I were not, yet is my troth plighted 
and my love declared to another lady, and to change 
one's love without cause is a disgrace to a knight." 

Mammon was inwardly enraged, but, hiding his 
feelings, he led him away, through the grisly shadows, 
by a beaten path, into a garden well furnished with 
herbs and fruits of an unknown kind. They were 
not such as men gather from the fertile earth, sweet 
and of good taste, but deadly black, both leaf and 
flower. Here grew cypress and ebony, poppy and 
deadly nightshade, hemlock, and many other poisonous 
plants. The place was called the Garden of Proser- 
pine. In the midst was a silver seat, under a thick 
arbour, and near by grew a great tree with spreading 
branches, laden with golden apples. 

Mammon showed the Knight many wonders in 
the Garden of Proserpine, and tried to tempt him to 
sit in the silver seat, or to eat of the golden apples. 
If Guyon had done so, the horrible monster who 
waited behind would have pounced on him and torn 
him to pieces ; but he was wary and took care not 
to yield to temptation, so the beguiler was cheated 
of his prey. But now he began to feel weak and ill 
for want of food and sleep, for three days had passed 
since he entered the cave. So he begged Mammon to 
guide him back to the surface of the earth by the way 
they had come. Mammon, though very unwilling, was 
forced to obey ; but the change was too much for Guyon 
in his feeble state, and as soon as he came into the light, 
and began to breathe the fresh air, he fainted away. 

138 



The Champion of Chivalry 



The Champion of Chivalry 

During the time that Guyon stayed in the house 
of Mammon, the Palmer, whom the maid of the Idle 
Lake had refused to take in her boat, had found a 
passage in some other way. On his journey he came 
near the place where Guyon lay in a trance, and sud- 
denly he heard a voice calling loud and clear, " Come 
hither, hither ! Oh, come quickly ! " 

He hurried in the direction of the cry, which led 
him to the shady dell where Mammon had formerly 
counted his wealth. Here he found Guyon senseless 
on the ground, but watched over by a beautiful angel. 

At first he was dismayed, but the angel bade him 
not be frightened, for that life and renewed vigour 
would soon come back to the Knight. He now handed 
him over to the charge of the Palmer, and bade him 
watch with care, for fresh evil was at hand. 

Thus saying, the angel vanished, and the Palmer, 
turning to look at Guyon, was rejoiced to find a feeble 
glimmer of life in him, which he cherished tenderly. 

At last there came that way two Pagan knights in 
shining armour, led by an old man, and with a light- 
footed page far in front, scattering mischief and enmity 
wherever he went. These were the two bad brothers, 
Pyrocles and Cymocles, the sons of Anger, guided by 
the false Archimago, while their servant, Atin (or 
Strife) stirred them up to quarrelling and vengeance. 

When they came to the place where the Palmer sat 
watching over the sleeping body of the Knight, they 

139 



Sir Guyon 

knew the latter at once, for they had both lately 
fought with him. They reviled the Palmer, and began 




heaping abuse on Sir Guyon, whom they thought dead, 
and declared that they would strip him of his armour, 

140 



The Champion of Chivalry 

which was much too good for such a worthless creature. 
The Palmer implored them not to do such a shameful 
and dishonourable deed, but his entreaties were in vain ; 
one brother laid his hand on the shield, the other on 
the helmet, both fiercely eager to possess themselves of 
the spoil. 

At this moment they saw coming towards them 
an armed knight of bold and lofty grace, whose squire 
bore after him an ebony spear and a covered shield. 
Well did the magician know him by his arms and bear- 
ing when he saw his prancing Libyan steed, and he cried 
to the brothers, " Rise quickly, and prepare yourselves 
for battle, for yonder comes the mightiest knight alive 
— Prince Arthur, the flower of grace and chivalry." 

The brothers were so impressed that they started up 
and greedily prepared for battle. Pyrocles, who had lost 
his own weapons in the fight with Fury, snatched a 
sword from Archimago, although the latter warned 
him it was a magic sword, and would do no harm to 
Prince Arthur, for whom it had been made long ago, 
and who was its rightful owner. Pyrocles only laughed 
at the magician's warning, and having bound Guyon's 
shield to his wrist, he was ready for the fray. 

By that time the stranger Knight had come near, 
and greeted them courteously. They returned no 
answer, but looked very disdainful, and then, turning to 
the Palmer, Prince Arthur noticed that at his feet lay an 
armed man, in whose dead face he read great nobility. 

" Reverend sir," he said, " what great misfortune 
has befallen this Knight ? Did he die a natural death, 
or did he fall by treason or by fight ? " 

141 



Sir Guyon 

" Not by one or the other," said the Palmer ; " but 
his senses are drowned in sleep, and these cruel foes 
have taken advantage of it to revenge their spite and 
rob him of his armour ; but you, fair sir, whose 
honourable look promises hope of help, may I beseech 
vou to take pity on his sad plight, and by your power 
protect him ? " 

" Palmer," he said, " there is no knight so rude, I 
trust, as to do outrage to a sleeping spirit. Maybe, 
better reason will soften their rash revenge. Well- 
chosen words have a secret power in appeasing anger. 
If not, leave to me your Knight's last defence." 

Then, turning to the brothers, he first tried what 
persuasion would do. He took for granted that their 
wrath was provoked by wrongs they had suffered, and 
did not challenge the right or justice of their actions ; 
but, on behalf of the sleeping man, he entreated pardon 
for anything he might have done amiss. 

To this gentle speech the brothers made rude and 
insulting answers, and Pyrocles, not waiting to set 
the Prince on guard, lifted high the magic sword, 
thinking to kill him. The faithful steel refused to 
harm its master, and swerved from the mark, but the 
blow was so furious it made man and horse reel. 
Prince Arthur was such a splendid rider that he did 
not fall from the saddle ; but, full of anger, he cried 
fiercely — 

" False traitor ! you have broken the law of arms 
by striking a foe unchallenged, but you shall soon 
right bitterly taste the fruit of your treason, and feel 
the law which you have disgraced." 

142 



The Champion of Chivalry 

With that he levelled his spear at Pyrocles, and the 
two were soon engaged in a fiery battle. Cymocles 
rushed to his brother's aid, and they both fell on the 
Prince with terrific fury, so that he had hard work to 
defend himself. So mighty was his power that neither 
of his foes could stand against it ; but whenever he 
smote at Pyrocles, the latter threw in front of him 
Guyon's shield, on which was portrayed the face of 
the Faerie Queene, and when he saw this, the Prince's 
hand relented, and he stayed the stroke, because of the 
love and loyalty he bore the picture. This often saved 
the Pagan knight from deadly harm, but at last Prince 
Arthur overcame and killed both him and his brother, 
while false Archimago and Strife fled fast away. 

By this time Sir Guyon had awakened from his 
trance, and was much grieved when he found that his 
shield and sword had disappeared ; but when he saw 
beside him his faithful companion, whom he had lost 
some days before, he was very glad. The Palmer was 
delighted to see him rise looking so well, and told him 
not to trouble about the loss of his weapons, for they 
would soon be restored to him. Then he told Guyon 
all that had happened, and how the strange Knight 
had fought for him with the two wicked brothers. 

When he heard this, Sir Guyon was deeply touched, 
and felt all his heart fill with affection. Bowing to 
Prince Arthur with due reverence, as to the defender 
of his life, he said, " My lord, my liege, by whose most 
gracious aid I live this day and see my foes subdued, 
what reward would be sufficient to repay you for your 

great goodness, unless to be ever bound " 

H3 



Sir Guyon 

But the Prince interrupted. " Fair sir, what need 
is there to reckon a good turn as a debt to be paid ? 
Are not all knights bound by oath to withstand the 
power of the oppressor ? It is sufficient that I have 
done my duty properly." 

So they both found that a good deed is made 
gracious by kindness and courtesy. 



The House of Temperance 

After the Pagan brothers were conquered, and Prince 
Arthur had recovered his stolen sword and Guyon his 
lost shield, the two went on their way together, talking 
pleasantly as they journeyed along. When the sun was 
near setting they saw in the distance a goodly castle, 
placed near a river, in a pleasant valley. Thinking this 
place would do to spend the night in, they marched 
thither, but when they came near, and dismounted from 
their tired steeds, they found the gates barred and every 
fastening locked, as though for fear of foes. They 
thought this was done as an insult to them, to prevent 
their entrance, till the Squire blew his horn under the 
castle wall, which shook with the sound as if it would 
fall. Then a watchman quickly looked forth from the 
highest tower, and called loudly to the knights to ask 
what they required so rudely. They gently answered 
that they wished to enter. 

" Fly, fly, good knights ! " he said ; " fly fast away 
if you love your lives, as it is right you should. Fly 
fast, and save yourselves from instant death. You 

144 



The House of Temperance 

may not enter here, though we would most willingly 
let you in if only we could. But a thousand enemies 
rage round us, who have held the castle in siege for 
seven years, and many good knights who have sought 
to save us have been slain." 

As he spoke, a thousand villains, with horrible out- 
cry, swarmed around them from the adjoining rocks 
and caves — vile wretches, ragged, rude, and hideous, 
all threatening death, and all armed in a curious 
manner, some with unwieldy clubs, some with long 
spears, some with rusty knives, some with staves heated 
in the fire. They looked like wild bulls, staring with 
hollow eyes, and with stiff hair standing on end. 

They assailed the Knights fiercely, and made them 
recoil, but when Prince Arthur and Sir Guyon charged 
again their strength began to fail, and they were un- 
able to withstand them, for the champions broke on 
them with such might that they were forced to fly like 
scattered sheep before the rush of a lion and a tiger. 
The Knights with their shining blades soon broke their 
rude ranks, and drove them into confusion, hewing and 
slashing at them ; and now, when faced boldly, they 
found that they were nothing but idle shadows, for, 
though they seemed bodies, they had really no substance. 

When they had dispersed this troublesome rabble, 
Prince Arthur and Guyon came again to the castle 
gate, and begged entrance, where they had been refused 
before. The report of their danger and conflict having 
reached the ears of the lady who dwelt there, she came 
out with a goodly train of squires and ladies to bid 
them welcome. 

145 K 



Sir Guyon 

The lady's name was Alma. She was as beautiful 
as it was possible to be, in the very flower of her youth, 
yet full of goodness and modesty. She was clad in a 
robe of lily-white, reaching from her shoulders to the 
ground ; the long, loose train, embroidered with gold 
and pearls, was carried by two fair damsels. Her 
yellow-golden hair was trimly arranged, and she wore 
no head-dress except a garland of sweet roses. 

She entertained the Knights nobly, and, when they 
had rested a little, they begged her, as a great favour, 
to show them over her castle. This she consented 
to do. 

First she led them up to the castle wall, which was 
so high that no foe could climb it, and yet was both 
beautiful and fit for defence. It was not built of 
brick, nor yet of stone, sand, nor mortar, but of clay. 
The pity was that such goodly workmanship could not 
last longer, for it must soon turn back to earth. 

Two gates were placed in this building, the one 
{mouth) by which all passed in far excelling the other 
in workmanship. When it was locked, no one could 
pass through, and when it was opened no man could 
shut it. Within the barbican sat a porter (the tongue), 
day and night keeping watch and ward ; nobody could 
go in or out of the gate without strict scrutiny. 
Utterers of secrets he debarred, babblers of folly, and 
those who told tales of wrong-doing ; when cause 
required it, his alarm-bell might be heard far and 
wide, but never without occasion. 

Round the porch on each side sat sixteen warders 
(the teeth), all in bright array ; tall yeomen they 

146 




JBut scone tbe kniybts witb tbeir brtgbt=burmng blades 
JSrofce tbeir rude troupes, and orders did confound, 
f>ewuuj an£> slasbing at tbetr idle sbaoes ; 
jfer tbougb tbes bodies seem, \:ct substaunce from tbem fades." 



The House of Temperance 

seemed, of great strength, and were ranged ready for 
fight. 

Alma then took the Knights over the rest of the 
castle, and showed them so many curious and beautiful 
things that their minds were filled with wonder, for 
they had never before seen so strange a sight. Pre- 
sently she brought them back into a beautiful parlour 
(the heart), hung with rich tapestry, where sat a bevy 
of fair ladies (the feelings, tastes, &c), amusing them- 
selves in different ways. Some sang, some laughed, 
some played with straws, some sat idly at ease ; but 
others could not bear to play — all amusement was 
annoyance to them. This one frowned, that one 
yawned, a third blushed for shame, another seemed 
envious or shy, while another gnawed a rush and looked 
sullen. 

After that, Alma took her guests up to a stately 
turret (the head), in which two beacons (the eyes) 
gave light, and flamed continually, for they were most 
marvellously made of living fire, and set in silver sockets, 
covered with lids that could easily open and shut. 

In this turret there were many rooms and places, 
but three chief ones, in which dwelt three honourable 
sages, who counselled fair Alma how to govern well. 
The first of these could foresee things to come ; the 
second could best advise of things present ; the third 
kept things past in memory, so that no time or occa- 
sion could arise which one or other of them could not 
deal with. 

The first sat in the front of the house, so that 
nothing should hinder his coming to a conclusion 

149 



Sir Guyon 

quickly ; he made up his mind in advance, without 
listening to reason ; he had a keen foresight, and an 
active brain that was never idle and never rested. His 
room held a collection of the oddest and queerest things 
ever seen or imagined. It was rilled, too, with flies, 
that buzzed all about, confusing men's eyes and ears, 
with a sound like a swarm of bees. These were idle 
thoughts and fancies, dreams, visions, soothsayings, 
prophecies, &c, and all kinds of false tales and lies. 

The second counsellor was a much older man. He 
spent all his time meditating over things that had really 
happened, and in studying law, art, science and philo- 
sophy, so that he had grown very wise indeed. 

The third counsellor was a very, very aged man. 
His chamber seemed very ruinous and old, and was 
therefore at the back of the house, but the walls that 
upheld it were quite firm and strong. He was half 
blind, and looked feeble in body, but his mind was 
still vigorous. All things that had happened, however 
ancient they were, he faithfully recorded, so that no- 
thing might be forgotten. 

The names of Alma's three counsellors were Ima- 
gination, Judgment, and Memory. 



The Rock of Reproach and the Wandering Islands 

The next morning, before it was light, Sir Guyon, 
clad in his bright armour, and accompanied by the Palmer 
in his black dress, started once more on his journey 
to find the wicked enchantress, Acrasia, and the Bower 

150 



The Rock of Reproach 

of Bliss. At the river ford, they found a ferryman, 
whom Alma had commanded to be there with his well- 
rigged boat. They went on board, and he imme- 
diately launched his bark, and Lady Alma's country 
was soon left far behind. 

For two days they sailed without even seeing land ; 
but on the morning of the third day, they heard, far 
away, a hideous roaring that filled them with terror, 
and they saw the surges rage so high, they feared to be 
drowned. 

Then said the boatman, " Palmer, steer aright, and 
keep an even course, for we must needs pass yonder 
way. That is the Gulf of Greediness, which swallows 
up all it can devour, and is in a constant turmoil." 

On the other side, stood a hideous rock of mighty 
magnet stone, whose craggy cliffs were dreadful to 
behold. Great jagged reefs ran out into the water, 
and threatened death to all who came near. Yet 
passers-by were unable to keep away, for trying to 
escape the devouring jaws of the Gulf of Greediness, 
they were dashed to pieces on the rock. 

As they drew near this dreadful spot, the ferryman 
had to put forth all his strength and skill to row them 
past. On the one hand, they saw the horrible gulf, 
that looked as if it were sucking down all the sea into 
itself; and on the other hand, they saw the perilous 
rock, on whose sharp cliffs lay the ribs of many shat- 
tered vessels, together with the dead bodies of those who 
had recklessly flung themselves to destruction. 

The name of the rock was the " Rock of Re- 
proach." It was a dangerous and hateful place, to 

l 5 l 



Sir Guyon 

which no fish nor fowl ever came, but only screaming 
sea-gulls and cormorants, who sat waiting on the cliff 
to prey on the unhappy wretches whose extravagant 
and thriftless living had brought them to ruin. 

Sir Guyon and his companions passed by this 
dangerous spot in safety, and the ferryman rowed them 
briskly over the dancing billows. 

At last, far off, they spied many islands floating 
on every side among the waves. Then said the Knight, 
" Lo, I see the land, so, Sir Palmer, direct your course 
to it." 

"Not so," said the ferryman, "lest we unknow- 
ingly run into danger ; for those same islands, which 
now and then appear, are not firm land, nor have they 
any certain abiding- place ; they are straggling plots, 
which run to and fro in the wide waters, wherefore 
they are called the ' Wandering Islands,' and are to 
be shunned, for they have drawn many a traveller into 
danger and distress. Yet from far off, they seem very 
pleasant, both fair and fruitful, the ground spread 
with soft, green grass, and the tall trees covered with 
leaves, and decked with white and red blossoms that 
might well allure passers-by. But whoever once sets 
his foot on those islands can never recover it, but 
evermore wanders, uncertain and unsure." 

Sir Guyon and the Palmer listened to their pilot, as 
seemed fitting, and they passed on their way. 

" Now," said the cautious boatman, when they had 
left behind them the Wandering Islands (or, listless 
idleness), " we must be careful to take good heed of 
our safety here, for a perilous passage lies before us. 

152 




" Saio tben tbe JBoteman, 'palmer, stere arigbt, 
Bno fceepe an even course; for gonoer wag 
1e neeoes must pas «5oo ooe us well acquigbt)/ 



The Rock of Reproach 

There is a great quicksand, and a whirlpool of hidden 
danger ; therefore, Sir Palmer, keep a steady hand, for 
the narrow way lies between them." 

Scarcely had he spoken, when near at hand they 
spied the quicksand ; it was almost covered with 
water, but they knew it at once by the waves round it 
and the discoloured sea. It was called the Quicksand 
of Unthriftiness. 

Passing by, they saw a goodly ship, laden from far 
with precious merchandise, and well fitted as a ship 
could be, which through misadventure or careless- 
ness had run herself into danger. The mariners 
and merchants, with much toil, laboured in vain to 
recover their prize and to save the rich wares from 
destruction, but neither toil nor trouble served to free 
her from the quicksand. 

On the other side, they saw the dangerous pool 
that was called the Whirlpool of Decay, in which 
many had haplessly sunk, of whom no memory re- 
mained. The circling waters whirled round, like a rest- 
less wheel, eager to draw the boat into the outer limit 
of the labyrinth, and to drown the travellers. But the 
heedful ferryman rowed with all his might, so that they 
passed by in safety and left the dreaded danger behind. 

Suddenly they saw in the midst of the ocean, the surg- 
ing waters rise like a mountain, and the great sea puffed 
up, as though threatening to devour everything. The 
waves came rolling along, and the billows roared in fury, 
though there was not a breath of wind. At this, Sir 
Guyon, the Palmer, and the ferryman were greatly afraid, 
for they knew not what strange horror was approaching. 



Sir Guyon 



Sea-Monsters and Land-Monsters 

Presently they saw a hideous crowd of huge sea- 
monsters, such as terrified any one to behold; every 
shape of ugliness and horror was there — water-snakes, 
and whales, and sword-fish, and hippopotamuses, and 
sharks, and every kind of sea-monster, and they came 
along in thousands, with a dreadful noise and a hollow, 
rumbling roar. No wonder the Knight was appalled, 
for, compared with these, all that we hold dreadful on 
earth were but a trifle. 

" Fear nothing," then said the Palmer, " for these 
creatures that look like monsters are not so in reality ; 
they are only disguised into these fearful shapes by the 
wicked enchantress to terrify us, and to prevent our 
continuing our journey." 

Then, lifting up his magic staff, he smote the sea, 
which immediately became calm, and all the make- 
believe monsters fled to the bottom of the ocean. 

Free from that danger, the travellers kept on their 
way, and as they went, they heard a pitiful cry, as of 
some one wailing and weeping. At last, on an island, 
they saw a beautiful maiden, who seemed in great 
sorrow, and who kept calling to them for help. Directly 
Guyon heard her, he bade the Palmer steer straight 
to her rescue ; but the latter, knowing better, said, 
" Fair sir, do not be displeased if I disobey you, for 
it would be a bad thing to listen to her, for really 
there is nothing the matter ; it is only a trick to 
entrap you." 

i 5 6 



Sea and Land Monsters 

The Knight was guided by his advice, and the 
ferryman held steadily straight on his course. 

The next temptation they had to face was of a 
different kind. They came to a lovely bay, sheltered 
on the one side by a steep hill, and on the other by 
a high rock, so that between them was a still and 
pleasant haven. In this bay lived five mermaids, who 
could sing in the sweetest manner possible, but the 
only use they made of their skill in melody was to 
allure travellers, whom, when they had got hold of, 
they killed. So now to Guyon as he passed, they 
began to sing their sweetest tunes, greeting him as the 
mightiest knight that had ever fought in battle, and 
bidding him to turn his rudder into the quiet bay, 
where his storm-beaten vessel might safely ride. 

" This is the port of rest from troublous toil," they 
sang ; " the world's sweet inn from pain and wearisome 
turmoil." 

The rolling sea and the waves breaking on the rock 
mingled with their singing, and the wind whistled in 
harmony. The sound so delighted Guyon that he bade 
the boatman row slowly, to let him listen to their 
melody. But the Palmer wisely counselled him not to 
do this, and so they got safely past the danger, and 
soon after they saw, in the distance, the land to which 
they were directing their course. 

Then suddenly a thick fog came down upon them, 
hiding the cheerful daylight, and making the whole 
world seem a confused mass. They were much dis- 
mayed at this, not knowing which way to steer in the 
darkness, and fearing that they would fall into some 

157 



Sir Guyon 

hidden danger. To add to their confusion, they were 
attacked by a flock of horrible birds, which flew scream- 
ing round them, beating at them with their wicked wings 
— owls, and ravens, and bats, and screech-owls. Yet 
the travellers would not stay because of these, but went 
straight forward, the ferryman rowing, while the Palmer 
kept a firm hand on the rudder, till at last the weather 
began to clear, and the land showed plainly. Then 
the Palmer warned Sir Guyon to have his armour in 
readiness, for peril would soon assail him. 

The Knight obeyed, and when the boat reached 
the shore, he and the Palmer stepped out, fully armed, 
and carefully prepared against every danger. 

They had not gone far, before they heard a hideous 
bellowing, and a pack of wild beasts rushed forward 
as if to devour them. But when they came near, the 
Palmer lifted up his wonderful staff, and immediately 
they were quelled, and shrank back trembling. 

Passing these, Sir Guyon and the Palmer soon came 
to the place the Knight was seeking — the object of 
his long and toilsome quest — the home of the wicked 
enchantress — the " Bower of Bliss." 



The Bower of Bliss 

It was a lovely spot, a place adorned in the most 
perfect way by which art could imitate nature ; every- 
thing sweet and pleasing, or that the daintiest fancy 
could devise, was gathered here in lavish profusion. 
A light fence enclosed it, and a rich ivory gate, 

i 5 8 




lEve long tbeg bearo an bfoeous bellowing 
©t mang beasts, tbat roareo outrageously. 



JBut soone as tbeg approcbt witb oeaolg tbreat, 
Gbe palmer over tbem bis staffe upbelo." 



The Bower of Bliss 

wonderfully carven, stood open to all those that came 
thither. 

In the porch sat a tall, handsome porter, whose 
looks were so pleasant that he seemed to entice 
travellers to him, but it was only to deceive them to 
their own ruin. He was the keeper of the garden, 
and his name was Pleasure. He was decked with 
flowers, and by his side was set a great bowl of wine, 
with which he pleased all new-comers. He offered it^ 
to Sir Guyon, but the latter refused his idle courtesy, 
and overthrew the bowl. 

Passing through the gate, they beheld a large and 
spacious plain, strewn on every side with delights. The 
ground was covered with green grass, and made beauti- 
ful with all kinds of lovely flowers ; the skies were 
always bright, and the air soft and balmy ; no storm 
or frost ever came to harm the tender blossoms ; neither 
scorching heat nor piercing cold to hurt those who 
dwelt therein. 

Guyon wondered much at the loveliness of that 
sweet place, yet would not suffer any of its delights to 
allure him, but passed straight through, and still looked 
forward. Presently he came to a beautiful arbour, 
fashioned out of interlacing boughs and branches. This 
was arched over with a clustering vine, richly laden with 
bunches of luscious grapes — some were deep purple 
like the hyacinth — some like rubies, laughing red — 
some like emeralds, not yet well ripened, and there were 
others of burnished gold. They almost broke down 
the branches with their weight, and seemed to offer 
themselves to be freely gathered by the passers-by. 

161 L 



Sir Guyon 

In the arbour sat a finely dressed lady ; she held 
in her left hand a golden cup, and with her right hand 
she gathered the ripe fruit, and squeezed the juice of 
the grapes into the cup. It was her custom to give a 
draught of this wine to every stranger that passed, 
but when she offered it to Guyon to taste, he took 
the cup out of her hand, and flung it to the ground, 
so that it was broken and all the wine spilt. Excess^ 
for that was the lady's name, was very angry at this, 
but she could not withstand the Knight, and was 
obliged to let him pass, and he went on, heedless of 
her displeasure. 

Then before his eyes appeared a most lovely para- 
dise, abounding in every sort of pleasure : rainbow- 
coloured flowers, lofty trees, shady dells, breezy 
mountains, rustling groves, crystal streams — it was 
impossible to tell which was art and which nature, 
they were so cunningly mingled ; both combined made 
greater the beauty of the other, and adorned this garden 
with an endless variety. 

In the midst of all, stood a fountain made of the 
most precious materials on earth, so pure and bright 
that one could see the silver flood running through 
every channel. It was wrought all over with curious 
carving, and above all was spread a trail of ivy of the 
purest gold, coloured like nature, so that any one who 
saw it would surely think it was real ivy. Number- 
less little streams continually welled out of this foun- 
tain, and formed a little lake, through the shallow 
water of which one could see the bottom, all paved 
with shining jasper. 

162 



The Bower of Bliss 

Then at last Sir Guyon and the Palmer drew near 
to the " Bower of Bliss," so called by the foolish 
favourites of the wicked enchantress. 

"Now, sir, consider well," said the Palmer, "for 
here is the end of all our travel. Here dwells Acrasia, 
whom we must surprise, or else she will slip away, and 
laugh at our attempt." 

Soon they heard the most lovely melody, such as 
might never be heard on mortal ground. It was almost 
impossible to say what kind of music it was, for all that 
is pleasing to the ear there joined in harmony — -the 
joyous singing of birds, angelic voices, silver-sounding 
instruments, murmuring waters, and the whispering 
wind ; and through it all they heard the singing of one 
voice, sweeter than all the others. 

But in spite of the lovely music heard on every 
side, Sir Guyon and the Palmer never left their path ; 
they kept on through many groves and thickets, till at 
last they came in sight of the wicked enchantress herself. 
She lay, half-sleeping, on a bed of roses, clad in a veil 
of silk and silver ; all round were many fair ladies and 
boys singing sweetly. Not far off was her last victim, 
a gallant-looking youth, over whom she had cast an 
evil spell. His brave sword and armour hung idly on 
a tree, and he lay sunk in a heavy slumber, forgetful of 
all the noble deeds in which he had once delighted. 

Sir Guyon and the Palmer cautiously drew near, 
then suddenly rushed forward, and flung over Acrasia 
a net which the skilful Palmer had made for the occa- 
sion. All her attendants immediately fled in terror. 
Acrasia tried all her arts and crafty wiles to set herself 

i6 3 



Sir Guyon 

free, but in vain ; the net was so cunningly woven, 
neither guile nor force could disentangle her. 




Then Sir Guyon broke down without 
pity all the pleasant bowers, and the stately 
palace, and trampled down the gardens, and burnt 
the banqueting-hall, so that nothing was left of the 
beautiful place to tempt other people to ruin. 

164 



The Bower of Bliss 

As for Acrasia, they led her away captive, bound 
with adamantine chains, for nothing else would keep 
her safe ; and when they came back to the place where 
they had met the wild beasts, these again flew fiercely 
at them, as if they would rescue their mistress. But 
the Palmer soon pacified them. 

Then Guyon asked what was the meaning of these 
beasts that lived there. 

"These seeming beasts are really men whom the en- 
chantress has thus transformed," replied the Palmer. 
" Now they are turned into these hideous figures, in 
accordance with their bad and ugly minds." 

" A sad end of an ignoble life, and a mournful result 
of excess in pleasure," said the Knight. " But, Palmer, 
if it may so please you, let them be returned to their 
former state." 

So the Palmer struck them with his staff, and im- 
mediately they were turned into men. Very queer and 
ill at ease they looked. Some were inwardly ashamed, 
and some were angry to see the Lady Acrasia captive. 
But one in particular, who had lately been a hog, Grill 
by name, loudly lamented, and abused the Knight for 
bringing him back from the shape of a hog into that 
of a man. 

Then said Guyon, " See how low a man can sink, to 
forget so soon the excellence in which he was created, and 
to choose rather to be a beast without intelligence ! " 

" Worthless men delight in base things," said the 
Palmer. " Let Grill be Grill, and have his hoggish 
mind. But let us depart hence, while wind and 
weather serve." 

i6 5 



Sir Guyon 

So Sir Guyon, having overthrown the power of the 
wicked enchantress, went back to the house of Alma, 
where he had left Prince Arthur. The captive Acrasia 
he sent under a strong guard to the court of the 
Faerie Queene, to be presented to Queen Gloriana as 
a proof that he had accomplished his hard task ; but 
he himself travelled forth with Prince Arthur, to 
make further trial of his strength and to seek fresh 
adventures. 



166 




The Legend of Britomart 



How Sir Guyon met a Champion mightier 
than himself 

AFTER the capture of the wicked enchantress 
L Acrasia, Prince Arthur and Sir Guyon travelled 
long and far together in all sorts of dangerous places. 
They met with many perilous adventures, which won 
them great glory and honour, for their aim was always 
to relieve the weak and oppressed, and to recover right 
for those who had suffered wrong. 

16- 



The Legend of Britomart 

At last one day, as they rode across an open plain, 
they saw a Knight spurring towards them. An aged 
squire rode beside him, and on the Knight's shield was 
emblazoned a lion on a golden field. 

When they saw him, Sir Guyon begged Prince 
Arthur to let him be the one to face the attack, and the 
Prince agreeing, Guyon levelled his spear and galloped 
towards the Knight. They met with such fury that 
the stranger reeled in his saddle, and Guyon himself, 
before he was aware, was hurled from his horse. 

His fall filled him with shame and sorrow, for never 
yet since he bore arms had such a disgrace happened 
to him. He need not, however, have been so grieved, 
for it was no fault of his own that he was dismounted. 
The spear that brought him to the ground was en- 
chanted, and no one could resist it. 

But Guyon would have felt far more sorry and 
ashamed had he known that the Knight who overthrew 
him was in reality a maiden. The stranger was no 
other than the famous Princess Britomart, daughter 
of Ryence, King of South Wales. She was roaming 
the world in search of Artegall, the champion Knight 
of Justice, whose image she had once beheld in a magic 
mirror given by the magician Merlin to her father. 
So grand and noble was the image of this splendid 
Knight that Britomart felt she could never rest until 
she had seen him in reality. She dressed herself in 
the armour of a knight, and her old nurse, Glauce, 
disguised herself as her squire, and together the two 
left the court of King Ryence and wandered through 
the world in search of Sir Artegall. 

168 




JBut <5it£on selfe, etc well be was aware, 
mtQb a speates lengtb bebinfc bis crouper fell," 



How Sir Guyon met a Champion 

Sir Guyon, full of anger at his fall, and eager to 
revenge himself, rose hastily, drew his sword, and 
rushed at the foe ; but his attendant, the Black Palmer, 
who had been his faithful companion and guide in all 
his former adventures, implored his master not to run 
into fresh danger. By his great wisdom he could tell 
that Britomart's spear was enchanted, and that no 
mortal power could withstand it. 

Prince Arthur joined his entreaties to the Palmer's, 
and they both spoke so wisely that Guyon' s anger 
melted away. Britomart and he became reconciled, and 
swore a firm friendship. In those days, when knights 
fought together, it was often not at all in malice, 
but only to test their strength and manliness. The 
one who conquered won much renown, but the van- 
quished felt no spite nor envy. It is a great thing to 
be able to lose with a good grace, without becoming 
sulky and disagreeable. Later ages might do well 
in this respect to learn a lesson from the days of 
chivalry. 

So Britomart, Prince Arthur, and Sir Guyon then 
travelled on together in the most friendly fashion, 
seeking further adventures. For some time nothing 
happened, but at length they came to a wide forest, 
which seemed very horrible and dreary. They rode a 
long way through this, but found no track of living 
creature, except bears, and lions, and bulls, which 
roamed all around. Suddenly, out of the thickest 
part of the wood, something rushed past them. 



171 



The Legend of Britomart 



How Britomart fought with Six Knights 

The creature that rushed from the wood, across 
the path of Britomart, Sir Guyon, and Prince Arthur, 
was a milk-white pony. On its back was a lovely 
lady, whose face shone as clear as crystal, though it 
was now white with fear. Her garments were all 
worked with beaten gold, and the trappings of her 
steed were covered with glittering embroidery. The 
pony fled so fast that nothing could hold it, and they 
could scarcely see the lady. She kept casting back- 
ward glances, as if she feared some evil that closely 
pursued her, and her bright yellow hair flew out far 
behind in the wind like the trail of a blazing comet. 

The name of the lady was Florimell. 

As the Knights stood gazing after her, there rushed 
from the same thicket a rough, clownish woodman, 
fiercely urging on his tired horse through thick and 
thin, over bank and bush, hoping by some means to 
get hold of Florimell. He was a huge, cruel-looking 
fellow, and in his hand he carried a sharp boar-spear. 

Directly Prince Arthur and Sir Guyon saw this 
they stayed not a moment to see which would be first, 
but both spurred after as fast as they could to rescue 
the lady from the villain. 

Britomart waited some time to see if they would 
return, but finding they did not come back she again 
set forward on her journey with steadfast courage. 
She intended no evil, nor did she fear any. 

At last, when she had nearly reached the edge of 
172 




** JSut faire before tbe gate a spattou? plagne 
ZffSantlcO witb arcenc. it scifc CnO spredften wsde, 
On which sbe saw fir Riugbts, tbat oic* barrasne 
tfiers batrail against one witb cruel mfgbt and magne." 



How Britomart fought 

the wood, she spied far away a stately Castle, to which 
she immediately directed her steps. This castle was a 
fine building, and placed for pleasure near the edge of 
the forest, but in front of the gate stretched a wide, 
green plain. 

On this plain Britomart saw six knights, who were 
all engaged in cruel battle against one Knight. They 
attacked him with great violence all at the same time, 
and sorely beset him on every side, so that he was 
nearly breathless ; but nothing could dismay him, and 
he never yielded a foot of ground, although he was 
sorely wounded. He dealt his blows stoutly, and 
whichever way he turned he made his enemies recoil, 
so that not one of all the six dared face him alone. 
They were like cowardly curs having some savage crea- 
ture at bay, who run about here and there to snatch 
a bite at their prey whenever his back is turned. 

When Britomart saw this gallant Knight in such 
distress and danger, she ran quickly to his rescue, and 
called to the six others to cease their attack on a 
single enemy. They paid no attention, but rather 
increased their spiteful fury, till Britomart, rushing 
through the thickest crowd, broke up their band, and 
compelled them, by force, to listen to peace. Then 
she began mildly to inquire the cause of their dispute 
and outrageous anger. 

Thereupon the single Knight answered, " These 
six tried by force to make me give up my own dear 
lady, and love another. I would rather die than do 
such a thing. For I love one lady, the truest one on 
earth, and I have no desire to change. For her dear 

J 75 



The Legend of Britomart 

sake I have endured many a bitter peril and met with 
many a wound." 

" Then, certainly, you six are to blame," said 
Britomart, " for it would be a great shame for a 
knight to leave his faithful lady — it would be better 
to die. Neither can you compel love by force." 

Then spoke one of the six. " There dwells within 
this Castle a fair lady whose beauty has no living rival. 
She has ordained this law, which we approve — that 
every knight who comes this way, and has no lady of 
his own, shall enter her service, never to leave it. But 
if he has already a lady whom he loves, then he must 
give her up, or else fight with us to prove that she is 
fairer than our lady." 

"Truly," said Britomart, "the choice is hard. 
But, suppose the knight overcame, what reward would 
he get ? " 

"Then he would be advanced to high honour, and 
win the hand of our lady," was the answer. " There- 
fore, sir, if you love any one " 

" I certainly will not give up my love, nor will I 
do service to your lady," replied Britomart. " But 
I will revenge the wrong you have done to this 
Knight." 

Then she rode at the six with her enchanted spear, 
and overthrew three of them before they were well 
aware of it. The fourth was dismayed by the Knight 
to whose rescue she had come, and the two others gave 
in before she touched them. 

" Too well we see our own weakness and your 
matchless power," they said. " Henceforth, fair sir, 

i 7 6 



Britomart in Castle Joyous 

according to her own law, the lady is yours, and we 
plight our loyalty to you as liegemen." 

So they threw their swords under Britomart's feet, 
and afterwards besought her to enter into the castle, 
and reap the reward of her victory. 

Britomart consenting, they all went in together. 



How it fared with Britomart in Castle Joyous 

The stately mansion into which Britomart and the 
rescued Knight now entered was called " Castle Joyous," 
and the owner of it was known to her retainers by the 
name of "the Lady of Delight." It would be im- 
possible to tell all the wonderful richness and beauty 
of this building, which was adorned fit for the palace 
of a prince. 

Passing through a lofty and spacious chamber, 
every pillar of which was pure gold,~ set with pearls 
and precious stones, the knights came to an inner 
room, hung with the most costly tapestry. The place 
was filled with the sweetest music and the singing of 
birds, but the wasteful luxury they saw on every side 
did not please Britomart nor the Knight, and they 
looked with a scornful eye on such lavish profusion. 

Then they came into the presence of the Lady of 
the Castle. They found her seated on a splendid 
couch, glittering with gold and embroidery. She 
seemed very generous and of rare beauty, but she was 
neither gentle nor modest, and she never hesitated to 
gratify her own desires at any cost. 

177 M 



The Legend of Britomart 

When she saw Britomart, who, in her armour, 
appeared to be a young and handsome knight, she 
took a great liking to her, and thought how nice it 
would be if she would enter into her service, and stay 
altogether at the Castle. All through the splendid 
supper which was presently served, she tried to make 
herself as agreeable as e^er she could, hoping that 
Britomart would be tempted to remain. After supper, 
she begged her to lay aside her armour, and enjoy 
some sport ; but this the maiden refused to do, for 
she wore it as a disguise. Britomart would not be so 
discourteous as to repulse the kindly spoken offers of 
goodwill, but she in her heart thought that such a 
sudden affection for a wandering guest could not be 
worth very much. 

When the supper-tables were cleared away, all the 
knights, and squires, and dames began to make merry. 
There was dancing and gambling, and every kind of 
revelry ; but through it all Malecasta (which was the 
real name of the Lady of Delight) was plotting in her 
own mind how she could get hold of Britomart. If 
the gallant young Knight (as she thought him) would 
not consent to stay of his own free will, she deter- 
mined to detain him by guile. 

So that night, when Britomart had taken off her 
armour and was fast asleep, Malecasta went to her 
room. Britomart sprang up in a great fright, and ran 
to seize her weapon ; but Malecasta shrieked for her 
six knights, and they all came rushing in, armed 
and half-armed. When they saw Britomart, with her 
sword drawn, they were afraid to go near her ; but 

i 7 8 




" JBut one of tbese sire fcnigbts, <3aroante' bight, 
Brew out a oeaolg bow ano arrow fceene, 
WLbich fortb be sent, witb felonous oespigbt 
Bno fell Intent, against tbe virgin sbeene." 



Britomart and the Magic Mirror 

one of them drew a deadly bow, and shot a keen arrow 
at her, which wounded her in the side. But the noise 
had also wakened the other Knight, who now ran to 
her help, and, fighting together side by side, they soon 
defeated their foes. 

When they were all put to shameful flight, Brito- 
mart arrayed herself again in her armour, for she 
would stay no longer in a place where such things 
were done by those who were apparently noble knights 
and ladies. Quite early, therefore, while the dawn was 
still grey, she and her companion-knight took their 
steeds and went forth upon their journey. 



How Britomart looked into the Magic Mirror 

As Britomart and the Knight journeyed away from 
Castle Joyous, it came into the Knight's mind to ask 
the Princess what had brought her into that part of 
the country, and why she disguised herself thus : for 
she seemed a beautiful lady when she was dressed as 
one, but the handsomest knight alive when she was 
clad in armour. 

" Fair sir," replied Britomart, " I would have you 
know that from the hour when I left my nurse's arms, 
1 have been trained up in warlike ways, to toss spear 
and shield, and to meet and overthrow warrior knights. 
I loathe to lead the lazy life of pleasure that most 
ladies do, fingering fine needle and fancy thread ; I 
would rather die at the point of the foeman's spear. 
All my delight is set on deeds of arms, to hunt out 

181 



The Legend of Britomart 

perils and adventures wherever they may be met by 
sea or land, not for riches nor for reward, but only for 
glory and honour. For this reason, I came into these 
parts, far from my native country, without map or 
compass, to seek for praise and fame. 

"For report has blazed forth that here, in the 
land of the Faerie Queene, many famous knights and 
ladies dwell, and many strange adventures can be 
found, out of which much glory may be won ; and to 
prove this, I have begun this voyage. But may I ask 
of you, courteous Knight, tidings of one who has 
behaved very badly to me, and on whom I am seeking 
to revenge myself; he is called Artegall." 

Britomart did not mean what she said of Artegall ; 
she only spoke like this to conceal her real feelings. 
As soon as the words were uttered she repented, and 
would have recalled them, but her companion answered 
almost before she had finished speaking. He said she 
was very wrong to upbraid so scornfully a gentle Knight, 
for of all who ever rode at tilt or tourney, the noble 
Artegall was the most renowned. It would be very 
strange, therefore, if any shameful thought ever entered 
his mind, or if he did any deed deserving of blame, for 
noble courage does nothing unworthy of itself. 

Britomart grew wonderfully glad to hear her love 
thus highly praised, and rejoiced that she had given 
her heart to one so gallant ; but in order to lead 
the Knight to speak further in the same style, she still 
pretended to find fault with Artegall, and asked where 
he might be found, because she wanted to fight with 
him. 

182 



Britomart and the Magic Mirror 

" Ah, if only reason could persuade you to soften 
your anger ! " said the Knight. " It is a bold thing 
to imagine you can bind a man like this down to hard 
conditions, or to hope to match in equal fight one 
whose prowess has no living rival. Besides, it is not 
at all easy to tell where or how he can be found, for 
he never dwells in any settled spot, but roams all over 
the world, always doing noble deeds, defending the 
rightful cause of women and orphans, whenever he 
hears they are oppressed by might or tyranny. Thus 
he wins the highest honour." 

These words sank into Britomart's heart, and filled 
her with rapture ; but still she would not let her com- 
panion see it. 

" Since it is so difficult to find Sir Artegall," she 
said, " tell me some marks by which he may be known, 
in case I happen to meet him by chance. What is he 
like ? What is his shield — his arms — his steed — and 
anything else that may distinguish him ? " 

The Knight set himself to point out all these, and 
described Sir Artegall in every particular. 

But Britomart knew already exactly what Sir 
Artegall was like ; and this is how she came to 
know it. 

Long ago in Britain she had seen his image plainly 
revealed in a magic mirror, and ever since then she 
had loved no one else. 

For in the days when her father, King Ryence, 
reigned over South Wales, Merlin, the great magician, 
had by his spells devised a wonderful looking-glass, 
the fame of which soon went through all the world. 

183 



The Legend of Britomart 

For this mirror had the power of showing perfectly 
whatever thing the world contained, between heaven 




and earth, provided it had to do with the person who 
looked into it. Whatever a foe had done, or a friend 

184 



Britomart and the Magic Mirror 

had feigned, was revealed in this mirror, and it was 
impossible to keep anything secret from it. 

The mirror was round and hollow, and seemed 
like a great globe of glass. Merlin gave it to King 
Ryence as a safeguard, so that if foes ever invaded his 
kingdom he would always know it at home before he 
heard tidings, and thus be able to prevent them. A 
present which could thus detect treason and overthrow 
enemies, was a famous one for a prince. 

One day Britomart happened to go into her father's 
private room. Nothing was kept hidden from her, 
for she was his only daughter, and his heir. When 
she spied the mirror, she first looked in to see herself, 
but in vain. Then, remembering the strange power it 
was said to possess, she tried to think of some interest- 
ing thing that concerned herself, and thus she wondered 
what husband fortune would allot to her. 

Immediately there was presented to her eyes the 
picture of a gallant Knight, clad in complete armour. 
His face, under the uplifted visor of the helmet, 
showed forth like the sun, to terrify his foes and 
make glad his friends. His heroic grace and noble 
bearing added to the grandeur of his figure. 

His crest was a crouching hound, and all his 
armour seemed of an antique fashion, but was wonder- 
fully massive and stout, and fretted all round with gold ; 
written on it in ancient lettering were the words — 

" Hcbilles' arms, wbicb Hrtegall fcifc win," 

On his shield he bore the device of a little crowned 
ermine on an azure field. 

i8 5 



The Legend of Britomart 

Britomart looked well at the figure of this Knight, 
and liked it well, and then went on her way, never 
dreaming that her future fate lay hidden at the bottom 
of this globe of glass. 



How Britomart went to the Cave of the Magician 

Merlin 

After Britomart had seen the figure of Sir Artegall 
in the magic mirror, a strange thing happened. She 
grew pale and ill, and lost all her merry spirits, and 
she no longer cared to do any of the things in which 
she had formerly delighted. At night, instead of 
sleeping, she tossed about, and sighed and wept ; or 
if she did close her eyes for a few minutes, it was only 
to dream of dreadful things, and to start awake again 
suddenly, with cries of terror. 

Her old nurse, Glauce, was much distressed to see 
such a sad change in her dear young mistress, and one 
night when Britomart had been more restless than 
usual, she begged her to say what was troubling her, 
and if she were secretly fretting over anything. 

Then Britomart told Glauce of the splendid Knight 
she had seen in the magic mirror, and how she longed 
to see him again. If it were some living person, there 
might have been some hope for her, but now there 
was none, for it was only the shade or semblance of a 
knight. So grand and noble was the appearance of 
Artegall that Britomart's heart ached with sorrow to 
think she should never see him in real life. 

186 



The Cave of the Magician 

Glauce tried to comfort her, and spoke cheerfully, 
but at first Britomart would not be consoled, for she 
did not see how things could ever be better for her. 
It was very foolish of her, she owned, to love only a 
shadow, but she knew the remembrance of Sir Artegall 
would never fade as long as life lasted, and she felt 
that death only could put an end to her grief. 

" Well," said the faithful old nurse, " if it is a 
choice between death and seeing him again, I swear to 
you by right or wrong to discover that Knight." 

Her cheerful words quite soothed Britomart's sad 
heart, and she lay down again in bed, and actually got 
a little sleep ; as for Glauce, she turned the lamp low, 
and sat by the bedside to watch and weep over her 
dear young lady. 

After that, Glauce tried every way she could think 
of to cure Britomart's grief ; but neither medicine, nor 
charms, nor good advice did her any good, and the nurse 
began to fear the King would be very angry with her 
when he heard what had happened to his dear daughter. 

At last she thought that he who made the mirror 
in which Britomart had seen the strange vision of the 
Knight, would surely be able to tell where the real 
man could be found. Disguising themselves, there- 
fore, in poor clothes, so that no one would know who 
they were, she and Britomart took their way to the 
place where the great magician, Merlin, had his dwell- 
ing, low underneath the ground, in a deep dell, far 
from the light of day. It was a hideous, hollow cave, 
under a rock that lay near a swift river foaming down 
the woody hills. 

187 



The Legend of Britomart 

Arrived here, Glauce and Britomart at first loitered 
about outside, afraid to go into the cave, and beginning 
to doubt whether they had done well to come. The 
brave maiden, with love to befriend her, was the first 
to enter, and there she found the magician deep in 
some work of wonder, busily writing strange characters 
on the ground. 

Merlin was not in the least surprised at their bold 
visit, for he knew quite well beforehand of their 
coming ; but he bade them unfold their business, — 
as though anything in the world were hidden from 
him ! 

Then Glauce told him that for the last three 
months some strange malady had taken hold of the 
young maiden ; what it was, or whence it sprang, she 
knew not, but this she knew, that if a remedy were 
not found, she would soon see her dead. Merlin 
began to smile softly at Glauce's smooth speeches, for 
he knew quite well she was not telling him the whole 
truth, and he said, "By what you say, your young 
lady has more need of a doctor than of my skill. He 
who can get help elsewhere, seeks in vain wonders 
from magic." 

Glauce was rather taken aback at hearing these 
words, and yet she was unwilling to let her purpose 
appear plainly. 

" If any doctor's skill could have cured my dear 
daughter," she said, " I should certainly not have., 
wished to trouble you ; but this sad illness which has 
seized her is far beyond natural causes." 

The wizard could stand no more of this, but burst 
188 




"Beepe busted 'bout worfce of wonorous eno, 
Bno writing straunge cbaracters in tbe growno." 



The Cave of the Magician 

out laughing, and said, "Glauce, what need is there 
for these excuses to cover the cause which has already 
betrayed itself? And you, fair Britomart, although 
dressed in these poor clothes, are no more hidden than 
the sun in a veil of clouds. You have done well to 
come to me for help, for I can give it you." 

Britomart was quite abashed at finding herself 
discovered, and grew very red ; but the old nurse was 
not in the least discomfited. 

" Since you know all our grief — for what is there 
that you do not know ? " — she said to Merlin, " I pray 
you to pity our trouble, and grant us relief.'' 

Merlin reflected for a few minutes ; then he spoke 
to Britomart, and told her many things that would 
happen in the future. He bade her not to be in the 
least troubled, for all would end well, and it was no 
misfortune for her to love the most powerful knight 
that had ever lived. 

The man whom she had seen in the magic mirror 
was Sir Artegall, the champion Knight of Justice^ and 
he dwelt in the land of the Faerie Queene. He was 
a mighty warrior, and would fight many battles for 
his native country, in which Britomart would aid him. 
He would win again for himself the crown that was 
his father's by right, and he would reign with great 
happiness. His son would succeed him, and after 
him would come a long race of kings. 

When Britomart and her old nurse, Glauce, had 
heard all they wanted to know, they both felt very 
glad and hopeful, and they returned home with much 
lighter hearts than they had set out. 

191 



The Legend of Britomart 



How Britomart set forth on her Quest 

Britomart and her old nurse Glauce now took 
counsel together as to the best means of finding Sir 
Artegall. They thought of one plan after another, 
and at last the nurse hit upon a bold device. She 
suggested to Britomart that, as the whole country was 
now disturbed by war, they should disguise themselves, 
in armour, and go in search of the Knight. It would 
be easy for Britomart to do this, for she was tall and 
strong, and needed nothing but a little practice to 
render her skilful in the use of spear and sword. 

"Truly," said Glauce, "it ought to fire your 
courage to hear the poets sing of all the brave women 
who have come from the royal house to which you 
belong." 

She went on to name a long list of noble Princesses 
who had fought gallantly against their country's ene- 
mies, and bade Britomart follow their example and be 
equally courageous. 

Her stirring words sank deep into the heart of the 
maiden, and immediately filled her with courage, and 
made her long to do brave deeds. She resolved to go 
forth as an adventurous knight, and bade Glauce put 
all things at once in readiness. 

It happened fortunately for them that only a few 
days before, a band of Britons riding on a foray had 
taken some rich spoil from the enemy. Amongst this 
was a splendid suit of armour which had belonged 
to the Saxon Queen, Angela. It was all fretted with 

192 




5n tb' evening late oR> (Slance bttber lefc 
3fatre $ritomart, anfc t tbat same Brmor^ 
2)owne taking, ber tbetein appareleD 
Well as sbe mfgbt" . ♦ . 



N 



How Britomart set forth 

gold, and very beautiful. This, with the other orna- 
ments, King Ryence had caused to be hung in his 
chief church, as a lasting memorial of his victory. 
Glauce, remembering this, led Britomart there late 
one evening, and, taking down the armour, dressed 
her in it. Beside the arms stood a mighty spear, 
which had been made by magic ; no living person 
could sit so fast in the saddle but it could hurl him 
to the ground. Britomart took this spear, and also 
a shield which hung near. 

When Glauce had dressed the maiden she took 
another suit of armour, and put it on herself, so that 
she could go forth with her young mistress and attend 
her carefully as her squire. Then they lightly mounted 
their horses, which were ready for them, and rode 
away in the darkness of night, so that none should 
see them. 

They never rested till they reached the land of 
the Faerie Queene, as Merlin had directed them. 
There they met with the Knight from Queen 
Gloriana's court, as we have already seen, with whom 
they had much pleasant conversation, but especially 
about the gallant Sir Artegall. When they came 
at last to the place where they had to part, the 
Knight and Britomart, who greatly liked each other, 
promised always to remain true friends, and Britomart 
then rode on alone with Glauce in search of Sir 
Artegall. 

What her companion had told her about Artegall 
made her long all the more to see him, and she 
fashioned in her mind a thousand thoughts as to what 

l 9S 



The Legend of Britomart 

he would be like, picturing him in her fancy every- 
thing that was noble and lovable — " wise, warlike, 
handsome, courteous, and kind." But these thoughts, 
instead of soothing her sorrow, only made it worse, 
till it seemed that nothing but death could drive away 
the pain. So she rode forth, restless and unrefreshed, 
searching all lands, and every remotest part, with 
nothing but her love to guide her. 



How Britomart came to the Castle of the Churl 
Malbecco 

One night, as Britomart was riding on her way, a 
fearful storm came on, great blasts of wind and a 
pelting shower of hail. Seeing a Castle in front of 
her, she went up to it, and earnestly begged to be let 
in. But the Castle belonged to a miserly churl, called 
Malbecco, who, because of his jealous and peevish 
disposition, refused to allow any strangers to enter his 
doors. He cared nothing what men said of him, 
good or bad ; all his mind was set upon hoarding up 
heaps of ill-gotten gain. He was old and ugly, and 
lacking in all kindness and courtesy. Instead of 
opening his doors to all wandering knights, as was 
the custom of the time, he kept them close-barred, 
and even in the midst of the terrible tempest which 
was then raging, Britomart was flatly refused entrance. 
She was greatly displeased at this, and determined 
when the time came to punish the churl for his dis- 
courtesy. 

196 



The Castle of Churl Malbecco 

But, in order to escape the fury of the gale, she 
was compelled to seek some refuge near. Beside the 
Castle gate was a little shed, meant for swine, but 
when she tried to enter she found it already full of 
guests. Another party of knights had been refused 
admittance at the Castle, and were forced to fly there 
for shelter. These would not at first allow Britomart 
to enter, whereupon she grew very angry, and declared 
she would either lodge with them in a friendly fashion, 
or she would turn them all out of the shed, whether 
they were willing or not, and then she challenged 
them to come forth and fight. 

The knights would now have been willing to let 
her come in, but her boastful tone irritated them ; 
one of them, Paridell by name, was especially annoyed, 
and hastily mounting his steed he rode forth to fight 
with her. Their spears met with such fury that both 
man and horse were borne to the ground, and Paridell 
was so sorely bruised that he could scarcely arise to 
continue the combat on foot, with swords, as was then 
the custom. 

But his companion, Sir Satyrane (who was the 
good Knight who had formerly befriended Una in 
the forest), stepped forward to prevent Britomart and 
Paridell from fighting further, and his wise speeches 
soon soothed their anger. When peace was restored, 
they agreed to join together to punish the unmannerly 
churl, who had acted so ungraciously in refusing them 
shelter from the tempest, and they went towards the 
gates to burn them down. 

Malbecco, seeing that they were really resolved to 
197 



The Legend of Britomart 

set fire to the building, ran frantically, and called to 
them from the castle wall, beseeching them humbly to 
have patience with him, as being ignorant of his ser- 
vants' rudeness and inattention to strangers. The 




knights were willing to accept his excuses, though they 

did not believe them, and they did not refuse to enter. 

They were brought into a beautiful bower, and 

served with everything needful, though their host 

198 



The Castle of Churl Malbecco 

secretly scowled at them, and welcomed them more 
through fear than charity. They took off their wet 
garments, and undid their heavy armour, to dry them- 
selves at the fire. Britomart, like the rest, was forced 
to disarray herself. When she lifted her helmet, and 
her golden locks fell like a cloud of light to the 
ground, they were all amazed to find the valiant 
stranger was a beautiful maiden. They stood gazing 
at her, silent with astonishment, for eye had never 
seen a fairer woman, but chiefly they marvelled at her 
chivalry and noble daring. They longed to know who 
she might be, yet no one questioned her, and every 
one loved her on the spot. 

Supper was then served, and when the meal was 
over the Lady Hellenore, wife of Malbecco, invited 
all the knights to tell their name and kindred, and 
any deeds of arms they had done. They talked so 
long about their various strange adventures, and the 
daring feats and many dangers they had passed through, 
that old Malbecco grew quite impatient. He took no 
interest in conversation of this kind. At last, when 
the night was half spent, he persuaded them to go 
to rest ; so they all retired to the rooms prepared for 
them. 

The next day, as soon as the sun shone in the sky, 
Britomart rose up and set forth on her journey. Sir 
Satyrane went with her, but Paridell pretended to have 
been so much hurt by his fight with Britomart that 
he must stay behind at the Castle till his wounds were 
cured. 



199 



The Legend of Britomart 



How Britomart walked through Fire 

Britomart and Sir Satyrane had not long left the 
Castle of the churl Malbecco when they saw in front 
of them a huge Giant chasing a young man. Filled 
with anger, Britomart immediately galloped to the 
rescue, and Sir Satyrane followed close behind. Seeing 
them approach, the Giant quickly resigned his prey, 
and fled to save himself. He ran so fast that neither 
of them could overtake him, and presently he came 
to a great forest, where he hid himself. It was not 
Sir Satyrane he feared so much as Britomart, for some 
instinct told him that his evil nature would be power- 
less to fight against any one so good. 

Britomart and Sir Satyrane entered the wood, and 
searched everywhere for the Giant, and, each going a 
different way, they soon got separated. Britomart 
went deep into the forest, and at last came to a foun- 
tain by which lay a Knight. He had tossed aside his 
coat and mail, his helmet, his spear, and his shield, 
and had flung himself face downwards on the grass. 
At first, Britomart would not disturb him, for she 
thought him asleep, but, while she stood still looking 
at him, she presently heard him sob and sigh as if his 
heart would break. 

Filled with pity, Britomart begged him to say 
what was the matter, as perhaps she might be able to 
help him. The Knight, whose name was Scudamour, 
did not think this at all likely, and would scarcely 
speak, but, after some further gentle words from 

200 



Britomart walks through Fire 

Britomart, he told her that he was in such deep sorrow 
because the lady he loved had been seized by a wicked 
enchanter called Busirane, and shut up in a horrible 
dungeon, from which no living power could release 
her. The enchanter had done this because he wanted 
to marry her himself, and when she refused, and declared 
she would never forsake her own true Knight, he had 
taken this cruel revenge. 

Then Britomart bade him take courage, for she 
would either deliver the Lady Amoretta from her 
dungeon, or she would die with her. 

" Ah, gentlest Knight alive," cried Scudamour, 
" how brave and good you are ! But keep your happy 
days and use them to better purpose. Let me die 
that ought. One is enough to die." 

" Life is not lost by which is bought endless 
renown," said Britomart. 

Thus she persuaded Sir Scudamour to rise and go 
with her to see what success would befall him in this 
fresh attempt. She gathered up his armour, which he 
had flung away in despair, and helped him to put it 
on, and she fetched his steed, which had wandered to 
some distance. 

Then they went forth together, and soon arrived 
at the place where their venture was to be made. 
There they dismounted, drew their weapons, and 
boldly marched up to the Castle. Here they found 
no gate to bar their passage, nor any warder, but in 
the porch, which greatly terrified them, was a huge 
flaming fire, mixed with smoke and sulphur, which 
choked all the entrance, and forced them to go back. 

20I 



The Legend of Britomart 

Britomart was dismayed at this, and did not know 
what to do, for it seemed useless danger to attempt 
to brave the fire, which prevented any one going near. 
Turning back to Scudamour, she asked what course 
he thought it would be safest to take, and how they 
should get at their foe to fight him. 

"This is the reason why I said to you at first the 
quest was hopeless," replied Scudamour, " for this fire 
cannot be quenched either by strength or cunning, nor 
can it be moved away, so mighty are the enchantments 
that keep it here. What else is to be done but to 
stop this useless labour, and leave me to my former 
despair ? The Lady Amoretta must stay in her wicked 
chains, and Scudamour die here with sorrowing." 

" No, indeed," said Britomart, " for it would be a 
shameful thing to abandon a noble enterprise at the 
mere sight of peril, without even venturing. Rather 
let us try the last chance than give up our purpose 
out of fear." 

So saying, resolved to try her utmost, she threw her 
shield in front of her face, and, holding the point of her 
sword straight in front of her, she advanced to the fire. 
The flames immediately gave way, and parted on either 
side, so that she walked through without hindrance. 

When Scudamour saw Britomart safe and un- 
touched on the other side of the fire, he also tried to 
pass, and bade the flames make way for him ; but the 
fire would not obey his threatening command, and 
only raged the more fiercely, forcing him to retire all 
scorched and painfully burnt. Furious at his failure, 
more even than at the pain of his burns, he flung him- 

202 




"1ber ample sbielo sbe tbrew before ber face, 
Bno ber sworos point otrectins forward rigbt 
Bssaplo tbe flame; tbe wbicb eftsoones gave place, 
Bno olD It selfe civile wttb equall apace/' 



Britomart walks through Fire 

self impatiently down on the grass, but Britomart had 
now passed the first door and entered the Castle. 

The first room she came to was splendid to see, 
for it was all hung round with rich tapestry, woven 
with gold and silk. Beautiful pictures, representing 
well-known fables and stories, were worked in the 
tapestry, and at the upper end of the room was a great 
Image which the people of the house were accustomed 
to worship. This image was made of massive gold, 
and had wings that shone with all the colours of the 
rainbow. It was blindfolded, and held in its hand a 
bow and arrows, which it seemed to shoot at random ; 
some of the arrows were tipped with lead, some .with 
pure gold. A wounded dragon lay under its feet. 

Britomart was so amazed at this wonderful figure, 
that she kept gazing at it again and again, though its 
brightness quite dazzled her. But, casting her eyes 
round the room, to discover every secret of the place, 
she saw written over the door these words : — 

"l&C bott>." 

She read this over and over, but could not think 
to what it could refer ; but, whatever it might mean, 
it did not in the least discourage her from following 
out her first intention, so she went forward with bold 
steps into the next room. 

This second room was even fairer and richer than 
the first one, for it was not hung round with tapestry, 
but was all overlaid with pure gold carved into the 
most curious and grotesque figures. 

Britomart marvelled much to see all this wealth 
205 



The Legend of Britomart 

and luxury, but, still more, that there was no trace of 
living person — nothing but wasteful emptiness and 
solemn silence over all the place ; it seemed strange 
that there was no one to possess such rich belongings, 
nor to keep them carefully. 

And as she looked about she saw how over that 
door, too, was written " Be bold, be bold; " and every- 
where, " Be bold"" She meditated much over this, 
but could not understand it. At last, at the upper 
end of the room, she saw another iron door, on 
which was written 

"»e not too bolfc," 

but, though she bent all her wise mind to the subject, 
she could not tell what it might mean. 

Thus she waited there until evening, yet saw no 
living creature appear. And now gloomy shadows 
began to hide the world from mortal view and wrap 
it in darkness. Britomart did not dare to take off 
her tiring armour, nor to go to sleep, for fear of 
secret danger, but she held herself in readiness, and 
saw that all her weapons were in good order. 



What Britomart saw in the Enchanted Chamber 

As darkness fell, Britomart heard the sound of a 
shrill trumpet, the sign of an approaching battle or a 
victory gained. This did not in the least daunt her 
courage, but rather strengthened it, while she expected 
each moment to see some foe appear. 

206 



The Enchanted Chamber 

Then arose a hideous storm of wind, with thunder 
and lightning, and an earthquake as if it would shake 
the foundations of the world. This was followed by 
a horrible smell of smoke and sulphur, which filled 
the whole place. Yet still the brave Princess was not 
afraid, but remained steadfast. 

Suddenly a whirlwind swept through the house, 
banging every door, and bursting open the iron wicket. 
Then stepped forth a grave-looking person, in costly 
raiment, and bearing in his hand a branch of laurel. 
Advancing to the middle of the room, he stood still, 
as if he had something to say, and beckoned with his 
hand to call for silence. After making various other 
signs, as if he were explaining some play that was going 
on, he softly retired, and then his name could be seen 
written on his robe in golden letters — "Ease" 

Britomart, still standing, saw all this, and marvelled 
what his strange intention could be. 

Then through the iron wicket came a joyous band, 
minstrels and poets playing and singing the sweetest 
music, and after them followed a number of strange 
figures in curious disguise, marching all in order like 
a procession. 

The first was Fancy^ like a lovely boy. His 
garment was neither silk nor stuff, but painted plumes, 
such as wild Indians deck themselves with. He 
seemed as vain and light as these same plumes, for he 
walked along as if he were dancing, bearing in his 
hand a great fan, which he waved to and fro. At his 
side marched Desire. His dress was extravagant, and 
his embroidered cap was all awry. He carried in his 

207 



The Legend of Britomart 

two hands some sparks, which he kept so busily blow- 
ing that they soon burst into flame. 

Next after these came Doubt, in a faded cloak and 
hood, with wide sleeves. He glanced sideways out of 
his mistrustful eyes, and trod carefully, as if thorns 
lay in his path ; he supported his feeble steps with a 
broken reed, which bent whenever he leant hard on it. 
With Doubt walked Dange7 r , clothed in a ragged bear's 
skin, which made him more dreadful, though his own 
face was grisly enough, and needed nothing to make it 
more so. In one hand was a net, in the other a rusty blade 
— Mischief and Mischance. With the one he threatened 
his foes, with the other he entrapped his friends. 

After Danger walked Fear ; he was all armed from 
top to toe, yet even then did not think himself safe. 
He was afraid of every shadow, and when he spied his 
own arms glittering, or heard them clashing, he fled 
fast away. His face was pale as ashes, and he kept his 
eyes fixed on Danger, against whom he always bent a 
brazen shield, which he held in his right hand. 

Side by side with Fear marched Hope, a handsome 
maid, with a cheerful expression and lovely to see. 
She was lightly arrayed in silken samite, and her fair 
locks were woven up with gold. She always smiled, and 
in her hand she held a little phial of dew, from which 
she sprinkled favours on any one she chose. She showed 
a great liking to many people, but true love to few. 

After them, Dissembling and Suspicion marched 
together, though they were not in the least alike ; for 
Dissembling was gentle and mild, courteous to all, 
and seemingly gracious, well adorned, and handsome. 

208 




" after all tbese tbere marcbt a most fatre 2>ame, 
Xeo ot two gvysie Villains, tb' one 2>espigbt ? 
£be otber clepeo Cruelty bg name." 



The Enchanted Chamber 

But all her good points were painted or stolen ; her 
deeds were forged, her words false. In her hand she 
always twined two clues of silk. 

Suspicion was ugly, ill-favoured, and grim, for ever 
looking askance under his sullen eyebrows. While Dis- 
sembling constantly smiled at him, he scowled back at 
her, showing his nature by his countenance. His rolling 
eyes never rested in one place, but wandered all round, 
for fear of hidden mischief; he held a screen of lattice- 
work in front of his face, through which he kept peering. 

Next him came Grief and Fury, fit companions — 
Grief clad in sable, hanging his dull head, carrying a 
pair of pincers, with which he pinched people to the 
heart ; Fury all in rags, tossing in her right hand a 
firebrand. Then followed Displeasure, looking heavy 
and sullen, and Pleasure, cheerful, fresh, and full of 
gladness. Displeasure had an angry wasp in a bottle, 
and Pleasure a honey-laden bee. 

After these six couples came a beautiful lady, led 
by two villains, Spite and Cruelty. She looked pale 
as death, and very ill, but in spite of this was most lovely 
and graceful. Her feeble feet could scarcely carry her, 
but the two wretches held her up, and kept urging her 
forward. 

Then the Tyrant of the Castle appeared — the 
winged figure of Love, whom Britomart had already 
seen in the first room as a golden image. He rode on 
a ravenous lion, and had unbound his eyes, so that he 
might gloat over the distress of the lovely lady, which 
seemed to please him greatly. He looked round him 
with stern disdain, and, surveying his goodly company, 

211 



The Legend of Britomart 

marshalled them in order. Then he shook the darts 
that he carried in his right hand and clashed his rainbow- 
coloured wings, so that every one was terrified. 

Behind him came his three chief attendants, Re- 
proach, Repentance, and Shame, and after them flocked 
a rude, confused crowd, who owned him as master — 
Strife and Anger, Care and Unthriftiness, Loss of 
Time and Sorrow, fickle Change, false Disloyalty, 
Rioting, Poverty, and, lastly, Death-with-infamy. 

All these and many other evil followers passed in 
disguise before Britomart, and, having thrice marched 
round the enchanted chamber, returned to the inner 
room whence thev had come. 



How Britomart rescued a Fair Lady from a 
Wicked Enchanter 

As soon as the strange procession had passed into 
the inner room, the door shut tight, driven by the 
same stormy blast with which it had first opened. 
Then the brave maiden, who all this while had re- 
mained hidden in shadow, came forth, and went to the 
door to enter in, but found it fast locked. In vain 
she thought to open it by strength when charms had 
closed it, and, finding force of no avail, she determined 
to use art, resolving not to leave that room till the 
next day, when the same figures would again appear. 

At last the morning dawned, calling men to their 
daily work, and Britomart, fresh as the morning, came 
out from her hiding-place. All that day she spent in 
wandering and in gazing at the adornment of the 

212 



Britomart rescues a Fair Lady 

chamber, till again the second evening spread her black 
cloak over everything. Then at midnight the brazen 
door flew open, and in went bold Britomart, as she 
had made up her mind to do, afraid neither of idle 
shows nor of false charms. 

As soon as she entered, she cast her eyes round to 
see what had become of all the persons she had seen 
in the outside room the night before, but, lo ! they 
had all vanished. She saw no living mortal of that 
strange company except the same hapless lady, whose 
two hands were bound fast, and who had an iron 
chain round her small waist, fastened to a brazen 
pillar by which she stood. 

In front of her sat the vile Enchanter, drawing in 
blood strange characters of his art, to try to make 
her love him. But who could love the cause of all 
her trouble ? He had already tried a thousand charms, 
but a thousand charms could not alter the lady's stead- 
fast heart. 

As soon as the Enchanter saw Britomart, he hastily 
overthrew his wicked books, not caring to lose his long 
labour, and, drawing a knife out of his pocket, ran 
fiercely at the lady, thinking, in his villainy, to kill 
her. But Britomart, leaping lightly to him, withheld 
his wicked hand, and overpowered him. 

Then, turning the weapon from the one whom he 
had first meant it, he struck at Britomart and wounded 
her. The hurt was slight, but it so enraged the maiden 
that she drew her sword, and smote fiercely at the 
tyrant. He fell to the ground half dead, and the next 
stroke would have slain him, had not the lady who 

213 



The Legend of Britomart 

stood bound called to Britomart not to kill him. If 
she did so, the prisoner's pain would be without remedy, 




___- 4^ — 



SE^S 



for no one but the Enchanter who had put the spell 
on her could take it off again. 

Then Britomart unwillingly stayed her hand, for she 
grudged him his life, and longed to see him punished. 

214 



Britomart rescues a Fair Lady 

" Thou wicked man," she said to him, " whose huge 
mischief and villainy merit death or worse than death, 
be sure that nothing shall save thee, unless thou im- 
mediately restore the lady to health and to her former 
condition. This do and live, or else thou shalt un- 
doubtedly die." 

The Enchanter, glad to live, for he had expected 
nothing but death, yielded willingly, and, rising, began 
at once to look over the wicked book, in order to 
reverse his charms. He read aloud many dreadful 
things, so that Britomart's heart was pierced with horror. 
But all the time he read, she held her sword high 
over him, in case he tried to do further mischief. 

Presently the house began to quake, and all the 
doors to rattle. Yet this did not dismay her nor 
make her slacken her threatening hand. But, with 
steadfast eye and stout courage, she waited to see what 
would be the end. At last the mighty chain which 
was wound round the lady's waist fell down, and the 
great brazen pillar broke into small pieces. Gradu- 
ally her look of terrible suffering passed, and she be- 
came restored to perfect health, as if she had never 
been ill. 

When she felt herself unbound, and quite well and 
strong, she threw herself at the feet of Britomart. 

" Ah, noble Knight ! " she said, "what recompense 
can a wretched lady, freed from her woeful state, yield 
you for your gracious deed ? Your virtue shall bring 
its own reward, even immortal praise and glory, which 
I, your vassal, freed by your prowess, shall proclaim 
throughout the world." 

215 



The Legend of Britomart 

But Britomart, lifting her from the ground, said, 
" Gentle lady, this I ween is reward enough for many 
more labours than I have done, that now I see you in 
safety, and that I have been the means of your deliver- 
ance. Henceforth, fair lady, take comfort, and put 
away remembrance of your late trouble. Know, instead, 
that your loving husband has endured no less grief for 
your sake." 

Amoret, for that was the lady's name, was much 
cheered to hear this mention of Sir Scudamour, for 
she loved him best of all living people. 

Then the noble champion laid her strong hand on 
the Enchanter who had treated Amoret so cruelly, and, 
with the great chain with which he had formerly kept 
prisoner the hapless lady, she now bound himself, and 
led him away captive. 

Returning the way she came, Britomart was dis- 
mayed to find that the goodly rooms which she had 
lately seen so richly and royally adorned had utterly 
vanished, and all their glory had decayed. Descending 
to the perilous porch, she found also that the dreadful 
flames, which had formerly so cruelly scorched all those 
who tried to enter, were quenched like a burnt-out 
torch. It was now much easier to pass out than it had 
been to come in. The Enchanter, who had framed this 
fraud to compel the love of the fair lady, was deeply 
vexed to see his work all wasted. 

But when Britomart arrived at the place where she 
had left Sir Scudamour and her own trusty squire (her 
old nurse, Glauce), she found neither of them there. 
At this she was sorely astonished, and, above all, 

216 



Strange Meetings on the Way 

Amoret, who had looked forward to seeing her own 
dear Knight, being deprived of this hope, was rilled 
with fresh alarm. 

Sir Scudamour, poor man, had waited long in dread 
for Britomart's return, but not seeing her, nor any 
sign of her success, his expectation turned to despair, 
for he felt sure that the flames must have burnt her. 
Therefore he took counsel with her old squire, who 
mourned her loss no less deeply, and the two departed 
in search of further aid. 



What Strange Meetings befell on the Way 

Leaving the Enchanter's Castle behind them, Brito- 
mart and Amoret started in search of Sir Scudamour 
and Glauce. 

As they went, Amoret told Britomart the story of 
how she came into the power of the wicked Busirane. 
On the very day of her marriage to Sir Scudamour, at 
the wedding feast, while all the guests were making 
merry, Busirane found means to introduce the strange 
procession which had so amazed Britomart in the en- 
chanted chamber. Amoret was persuaded in sport to 
join it, and was carried away quite unknown to any one. 
Seven months she had been kept in cruel imprisonment, 
because she would not consent to give up her own dear 
husband and become the wife of the wicked Enchanter. 
Now, at last, she was free, and when she discovered that 
her deliverer was not after all a knight, but in reality 
a beautiful maiden like herself, her heart overflowed 

217 



The Legend of Britomart 

with love and gratitude, and she and Britomart speedily 
became the best and dearest friends. 

In the course of their journey they presently saw 
two knights in armour coming to meet them, each with 
what seemed at that distance a fair lady riding beside him. 
But ladies they were not, although in face and out- 
ward show they seemed so. Under a mask of beauty and 
graciousness they hid vile treachery and falsehood, which 
were not apparent to any but the wise and cautious. 

One was the false Duessa, who had formerly beguiled 
the Red Cross Knight and Sir Guyon. She had changed 
her usual appearance, for she could put on as many 
different shapes as a chameleon can new colours. 

Her companion was, if possible, worse than herself. 
Her name was Ate, Mother of Strife ', cause of all dis- 
sension both among private men and in public affairs of 
state. False Duessa, knowing that she was just the 
most fitting person to aid her in mischief, had sum- 
moned her from her dwelling under the earth, where 
she wasted her wretched days and nights in darkness. 
Her abode was close to the Kingdom of Evil, where 
plagues and harms abound to punish those who do 
wrong. It was a gloomy dell, far under ground, sur- 
rounded with thorns and briars, so that no one could 
easily get out ; there were many ways to enter, but 
none by which to leave when one was once in ; for it 
is harder to end discord than to begin it. 

All the broken walls inside were hung with the 
ragged memorials of past times, which showed the sad 
effects of strife. There were rent robes and broken 
sceptres, sacred things ruined, shivered spears, and shields 

218 



Strange Meetings on the Way 

torn in twain, great cities ransacked, and strong castles 
beaten down, nations led into captivity, and huge armies 




slain — relics of all these ruins remained in the house of 
Ate. All the famous wars in history found a record 

219 



The Legend of Britomart 

here, as well as the feuds and quarrels of private persons 
too many to mention. 

Such was the house inside. Outside, the barren 
ground was full of poisonous weeds, which Strife her- 
self had sown ; they had grown great from small seeds 
— the seeds of evil words and wrangling deeds, which, 
when they come to ripeness, bring forth an infinite 
increase of trouble and contention, often ending in 
bloodshed and war. These horrible seeds also served 
Ate for bread, and she had been fed upon them from 
childhood, for she got her life from that which killed 
other people. She was born of a race of demons, and 
brought up by the Furies. 

Strife was as ugly as she was wicked ; she could 
speak nothing but falsehood, and she never heard 
aright. She could not even walk straight, but stumbled 
backwards and forwards; what one hand reached out 
to take, the other pushed away, or what one hand 
made, the other destroyed. Great riches, which had 
taken many a day to collect, she often squandered 
rapidly, dismaying their possessors ; for all her study 
and thought was how she might overthrow the things 
done by Concord. So far did her malice surpass her 
might that she tried to bring all the world's fair peace 
and harmony into confusion. Such was the odious 
creature that rode with Duessa. 

The two knights who escorted them, Blandamour 
and Paridell, ^were young and handsome, but both 
equally foolish, fickle, and false. When they saw 
Britomart and the lovely Lady Amoret approaching, 
Blandamour jestingly tried to make his companion 

220 



Strange Meetings on the Way 

attack Britomart, so that he might win Amoret for 
himself. But Paridell remembered how he had already 
fought with a knight bearing those arms and that 
shield, outside the castle of the churl Malbecco, and 
he had no desire to provoke a new fight. 

"Very well," said Blandamour ; "I will challenge 
him myself; " and he rode straight at Britomart. 

But he had soon cause to repent his rashness, for 
Britomart received his advance with so rude a welcome 
that he speedily left his saddle. Then she passed 
quietly on, leaving him on the ground much hurt, an 
example of his own folly, and as sad now as he had 
formerly been merry, well warned to beware in future 
with whom he dared to interfere. 

Paridell ran to his aid and helped him to mount 
again, and they marched on their way, Blandamour 
trying as well as he could to hide the evil plight 
he was in. Before long they saw two other knights 
coming quickly to meet them, and Blandamour was 
enraged to see that one was Sir Scudamour, whom he 
hated mortally, both because of his worth, which made 
all men love him, and because he had won by right 
the Lady Amoret. Blandamour was greatly vexed 
that his bruises prevented his wreaking his old spite, 
and he immediately spoke thus to Paridell : — 

" Fair sir, let me beg of you in the name of friend- 
ship, that, as I lately ventured for you and got these 
wounds, which now keep me from battle, you will now 
repay me with a like good turn, and justify my cause 
on yonder Knight." 

Paridell willingly agreed, and sped at the stranger like 
221 



The Legend of Britomart 

a shaft from a bow, but Sir Scudamour was on his guard, 
and prepared himself to give him a fitting welcome. 
So furiously they met that each hurled the other from 
his horse, like two billows driven by contrary tides, 
which meet together, and rebound back with roaring 
rage, dashing on all sides and filling the sea with foam. 
So fell these two, in spite of all their pride. 

But Scudamour soon raised himself, and upbraided 
his foe for lying there so long. 

Blandamour, seeing the fall of Paridell, taunted 
Sir Scudamour as a traitor, and heaped abuse on him, 
saying that he only attacked knights who were too 
weak to defend themselves. 

Scudamour gave no answer to this, trying to re- 
strain his indignation ; but then Duessa and Ate 
both chimed in, wickedly doing all they could to 
rouse his passion. 

They spoke jeering words, and said they wondered 
Sir Scudamour should care to fight for any lady, for 
Amoret was faithless, and had forgotten him and gone 
off with another Knight. 

This Knight, we know, was in reality the Princess 
Britomart ; but Sir Scudamour did not know this. 
He swore, in a fearful rage, to be revenged ; he 
even threatened to kill the squire, Glauce, who was 
still with him, since he could not get hold of his 
master. In vain the poor old nurse tried to appease 
him, for she dared not disclose Britomart's secret. 
Three times Sir Scudamour lifted his hand to kill 
Glauce, and three times he drew back, before at last 
he became a little pacified. 

222 



X 



A Great Tournament 



How Sir Satyrane proclaimed a Great Tournament 

The fickle and quarrelsome couple, Blandamour and 
Paridell, having been defeated by Britomart and Sir 
Scudamour, next fell in with a party of two knights and 
two masked ladies. They sent their squire to find out 
who these were, and he brought back word that they 
were two doughty knights of dreaded name, Cambell 
and Triamond, and the two ladies were their wives, 
Cambina and Candace. All four were very famous 
people, and the dearest friends possible. They had 
had many wonderful adventures of their own, about 
which perhaps you will read some day. 

Blandamour, in his usual vainglorious spirit, would 
gladly have tested his strength against the knights, but 
he was still sore from the late unlucky fight with Brito- 
mart. However, he went up to them, and began to 
abuse and insult them, thinking in this way to win 
admiration from the ladies. Of course this enraged the 
two knights, who were both bent on punishing Blanda- 
mour for his base behaviour. But Cambina, wife of 
Cambell, soothed them with her mild words, so, for 
the present, they were reconciled. 

The whole party rode on together, talking of daring 
deeds and strange adventures, and, among other things, 
of the great tournament to which they were then all 
bound 

This tournament had been set on foot by Sir Saty- 
rane, the same woodland knight who had formerly 
befriended Una, and who had met Britomart at the 

223 



The Legend of Britomart 

castle of the churl Malbecco. Some time before, 
ranging abroad in search of adventure, he had come to 
the sea-coast, where he was horrified to rind a vile 
monster, something like a hyena, feeding on the dead 
body of a milk-white palfrey. He knew the horse at 
once as the one on which Florimell was accustomed 
to ride, and, moreover, he found beside it her golden 
girdle. This girdle had fallen from her in flight, for 
Florimell had escaped in a small boat ; but Sir Satyrane 
did not know this — he thought she had been killed by 
the savage brute. Filled with fury, he fell on the 
creature. He was unable to slay it, for it was protected 
by the magic spells of its mistress, a wicked witch ; 
but he led it away captive for the time, though it 
afterwards escaped. 

The golden girdle which Sir Satyrane found he 
kept as a sacred treasure, and wore for the sake of 
Florimell. But when she herself was lost and gone, 
many knights who also loved her dearly were jealous 
that Sir Satyrane alone should wear the ornament of 
the lost lady, and began to bear much spite against 
him. Therefore, to stop their envy, he caused a solemn 
feast, with public tourneying, to be proclaimed, to 
which every knight was to bring his lady. She who 
was found fairest of them all was to have the golden 
girdle as a reward, and she was to bestow it on the 
stoutest knight. 

Now it happened after the flight of Florimell, that 
the wicked witch from whom she had escaped made 
up another person to represent her, in order to deceive 
people. This imitation maiden was most beautiful to 

224 




"f>e sett upon ber palfrey tireo lame, 
%nb slew bim ctuellg ere arts resfeew came/' 



A Great Tournament 

see. The substance of which her body was made was 
purest snow frozen in a mass, and mixed with virgin 
wax, tinted with vermilion ; her eyes shone like stars, 
her hair was yellow gold. Any one who saw her would 
surely say it was Florimell herself, or even fairer than 
Florimell, if such a thing could be. 

But this false Florimell had a wicked and deceitful 
spirit, full of fawning guile, and she excelled in all 
manner of wily cunning. 

In the course of her wandering, this creature, who 
was known by the name of the "Snowy Lady," came 
across Braggadochio, whom you may remember as 
the cowardly boaster that stole Sir Guyon's horse and 
armour. But as she rode along with Braggadochio the 
latter was attacked and beaten by another knight, who 
thought the lady was the real Florimell. He in turn 
was vanquished by Blandamour, who also imagined that 
she was the true Florimell, and was very proud of him- 
self for getting possession of such a paragon. Though 
he was so false himself, and had deceived hundreds of 
others, he was no match for the " Snowy Lady " in cun- 
ning, and was completely taken in by her. 

When Blandamour heard of the great tournament 
held by Sir Satyrane in honour of FlorimeH's golden 
girdle, he immediately determined to go there and 
claim the prize on behalf of its rightful owner, whom 
he then believed to be under his protection. Thus it 
came to pass that the false Florimell journeyed with 
Blandamour and the others to the tournament. 

Not long after Cambell and Triamond, with their 
wives, Cambina and Candace, had joined the party, 

227 



The Legend of Britomart 

they saw a man in bright armour, with spear in rest, 
riding towards them as though he meant to attack 
them. Paridell immediately prepared his own weapons, 
whereupon the other slackened his pace, and seemed 
to alter his intention, as if he meant nothing but peace 
and pleasure now that he had fallen by chance into 
their fellowship. Seeing this, they greeted him civilly, 
and he rode on with them. 

This man was Braggadochio. When his eyes fell 
on the false Florimell, he remembered her as the lady 
who had been taken from him not long before. He 
therefore began to challenge her as his own prize, and 
threatened to seize her again by force. 

Blandamour treated his words with much disdain, 
saying, " Sir Knight, since you claim this lady, you 
shall win her, as I have done, in fight. She shall be 
placed here, together with this hideous old hag, Ate 
(Strife)^ that whoso wins her may have her by right. 
But Ate shall go to the one that is beaten, and he 
shall always ride with her till he gets another lady." 

That offer pleased all the company, so the false 
Florimell was brought forward with Ate, at which every 
one began to laugh merrily. But Braggadochio now 
tried to back out of his challenge. He said he never 
thought to imperil his person in fight for a hideous old 
creature like that. If they had sought to match the lady 
with another one equally fair and radiant, he would then 
have spent his life to justify his right. 

At this vain excuse they all began to smile, scorning 
his unmanly cowardice. The Snowy Lady reviled him 
loudly for refusing to venture battle for her sake when 

228 



The Tournament 

it was offered in such knightly fashion, and Ate secretly 
taunted him with the shame of such contempt. But 
nothing did he care for friend or foe, for in the base 
mind dwells neither friendship nor enmity. 

But Cambell jestingly stopped them all, saying, 
" Brave knights and ladies, certainly you do wrong to 
stir up strife when most we need rest, so that we may 
keep ourselves fresh and strong against the coming 
tournament, when every one who wishes to fight may 
fight his fill. Postpone your challenge till that day, 
and then it shall be tried, if you will, which one shall 
have Ate and which one still hold the lady." 

They all agreed, and so, turning everything to sport 
and pleasantness, they passed merrily on their way, till 
at length, on the appointed day, they came to the place 
where the tournament was to be held. 



What befell on the First and Second Days of the 
Tournament 

On arriving at the scene of the tournament, the 
little company divided, Blandamour and those of his 
party going to one side and the rest to the other side ; 
but boastful Braggadochio, from vain-glory, chose 
rather to leave his companions, so that men might gaze 
more on him alone. The rest disposed themselves in 
groups, as seemed best to each one, every knight with 
his own ladv. 

Then, first of all, came forth Sir Satyrane, bearing 
the precious relic in a golden casket, so that no evil 

229 



The Legend of Britomart 

eyes should profane it. Then softly drawing it out of 
the dark, he showed it openly, so that all men might 
mark it — a gorgeous girdle of marvellous workman- 
ship, curiously embossed with pearls and precious stones 
of great value. It was the same girdle which Flori- 
mell had lately lost. Sir Satyrane hung it aloft in 
open view, to be the prize of might and beauty. The 
moment it was uncovered, the glorious sight attracted 
every one's gaze and stole the hearts of all who looked 
on it, so that they uttered vain vows and wishes. 
Thrice happy, it seemed to them, would be the lady 
and knight who gained such a splendid reward for 
their peril and labour. 

Then the bold Sir Satyrane took in his hand a 
great spear, such as he was accustomed to wield, and, 
advancing forward from all the other knights, set his 
shield in place, showing that he was ready for the fray. 
The warriors who fought on his side were called the 
"Knights of Maidenhood." They were the challen- 
gers, and their aim was to keep the golden girdle in 
their own possession. 

Against him, from the other side, stepped out a 
Pagan knight, well skilled in arms, and often tried in 
battle. He was called " Bruncheval the Bold." These 
two met together so furiously that neither could sus- 
tain the other's force, and both champions were felled 
to the ground, where they lay senseless. 

Seeing this, other knights rode quickly to their 
aid, some fighting on one side and some on the other. 
Only Braggadochio, when his turn came, showed no 
desire to hasten to the help of his party, but stood 

230 



The Tournament 

still as one who seemed doubtful or dismayed. Then 
Triamond, angry to see him delay, sternly stepped 
forward and caught away his spear, with which he so 
sorely assailed one of the knights that he bore both 




horse and rider to the ground. To avenge his fall 
one knight after another pressed forward, but Tria- 
mond vanquished them all, for no one seemed able to 
withstand his power. 

By this time Sir Satyrane had awakened from his 
231 



The Legend of Britomart 

swoon. When he looked around and saw the merciless 
havoc that Sir Triamond had wrought to the knights 
of his party, his heart was almost broken with bitter- 
ness, and he wished himself dead rather than in so bad 
a plight. He began at once to gather up his scattered 
weapons, and, as it happened, he found his steed ready. 
Like a flash of fire from the anvil, he rode fiercely to 
where Triamond was driving his foes before him, and, 
aiming his spear at him, he pierced his side badly. 
Triamond could scarcely keep from falling, but he 
withdrew softly from the field as well as he could, so 
that no one saw plainly what had happened. 

Then the challengers — the Knights of Maidenhood 
— began to range the field anew, and pride themselves 
on victory, since no one dared to maintain battle against 
them. By that time it was evening, which forced them 
to refrain from fighting, and the trumpets sounded, to 
compel them to cease. 

So Sir Satyrane was judged to be the best knight on 
that first day. 

The next morning the tournament began anew. 
Satyrane, with his gallant band, was the first to appear, 
but Sir Triamond was unable to prepare for battle, be- 
cause of his wound. This grieved him much, and Cam- 
bell, seeing this, and eager to win honour on his friend's 
behalf, took the shield and armour which were well 
known to belong to Triamond, and without saying a 
word to any one, put them on and went forth to fight. 

There he found Satyrane lord of the field, triumph- 
ing in great joy, for no one was able to stand against 
him. Envious of his glory, and eager to avenge his 

232 



The Tournament 

friend's indignity, Cambell at once bent his spear against 
him. After a furious battle, he overthrew Sir Satyrane ; 
but, before he could seize his shield and weapons, which 
were always the reward of the victor, a hundred knights 
had pressed round him to rescue Satyrane, and in the 
hope of taking Cambell prisoner. Undismayed, the 
latter fought valiantly, but what could one do against 
so many ? At last he was taken captive. 

When news of this was brought to Triamond, he 
forgot his wound, and, instantly starting up, looked for 
his armour. But he sought in vain, for it was not there 
— Cambell had taken it. Triamond therefore threw on 
himself CambeH's armour, and nimbly rushed forward 
to take his chance. There he found the warrior band 
leading away his friend — a sorry sight for him to see. 

He thrust into the thickest of that knightly crowd, 
and smote down all between till he came to where he 
had seen Cambell, like a captive thrall, between two 
other knights. Triamond attacked them so fiercely that 
they were obliged to let their prisoner go, and then the 
two friends, fighting together, scattered their foes in 
alarm, as two greedy wolves might a flock of sheep. 
They followed in pursuit till the sound of the trumpet 
warned every one to rest. 

Then all with one consent yielded the prize of this 
second day to Triamond and Cambell as the two best 
knights. But Triamond resigned it to Cambell, and 
Cambell gave it back to Triamond, each trying to 
advance the other's deed of arms, and make his praise 
preferred before his own. 

So the judgment was deferred to another day. 
*33 



The Legend of Britomart 



How Britomart did Battle for the Golden Girdle 

The last day of the tournament came, when all the 
knights again assembled to show their feats of arms. 
Many brave deeds were done that day, but Satyrane above 
all the other warriors displayed his wondrous might ; 
from first to last he remained fighting, and though some- 
times for a little while fortune failed him, yet he always 
managed to retrieve his honour, and with unwearied 
power he kept the prize secure for his own party. 

The field was strewn with shivered spears, and 
broken swords, and scattered shields, showing how 
severe the fight had been ; there might be seen also 
loose steeds running at random, whose luckless riders 
had been overthrown, and squires hastening to help 
their wounded masters. But still the Knights of 
Maidenhood came off the best, till there entered on 
the other side a stranger knight. 

Whence he came no man could tell. He was in 
a quaint disguise, hard to be discovered, for all his 
armour was like a savage dress, decked with woody 
moss, and his steed had trappings of oak-leaves, that 
seemed fit for some savage mortal. Charging the 
enemy, this stranger smote down knight after knight, 
till every one began to shun the dreadful sight of him. 
They all wondered greatly who he was and whence he 
came, and began to ask each other his name ; but when 
they could not learn it anyhow, it seemed most suitable 
to his wild disguise to term him the Savage Knight. 

But, truly, his right name was otherwise. Though 
234 



Battle for the Golden Girdle 

known to few, he was called Sir Artegall, the cham- 
pion of ' Justice ) the doughtiest and the mightiest Knight 
then living. 

Sir Satyrane and all his band were so dismayed by 
his strength and valour that none of them dared remain 
in the field, but were beaten and chased about all day 
till the evening. Then, as the sun set, out of the 
thickest rout rushed forth another strange knight, who 
put the glory of the " Savage Knight " to shame — so 
can nothing be accounted happy till the end. 

This strange Knight charged his mighty spear at 
Artegall in the midst of his pride, and smote him so 
sorely on the visor that he fell back off his horse, and 
had small desire to rise again. Cambell, seeing this, 
ran at the stranger with all his might and main, but 
was soon likewise to be seen lying on the field. Tria- 
mond thereupon was inwardly full of wrath, and deter- 
mined to avenge the shame done to his friend ; but by 
his friend he soon found himself lying, in no less need 
of help. Blandamour had seen everything from begin- 
ning to end, and when he beheld this he was sorely 
displeased, and thought he would soon mend matters ; 
but he fared no better than the rest before him. 

Many others likewise ran at the Knight, but in like 
manner they were all dismounted ; and of a truth it 
was no wonder. No power of man could stay the 
force of that enchanted spear, for the stranger was no 
other than the famous Britomart. 

Thus the warrior Princess restored that day to the 
Knights of Maidenhood the prize which was well-nigh 
lost, and bore away the prize of prowess from them all. 

*3S 



The Legend of Britomart 

Then the shrill trumpets began to bray loudly, and 
bade them leave their labour and long toil for the joyous 
feast and other gentle play, for now the precious golden 
girdle was to be awarded to the most beautiful lady. 

Through all ages it has been the custom that the 
prize of Beauty has been joined with the praise of arms 
and Chivalry. And there are special reasons for this, 
for each relies much on the other ; that Knight who 
can best defend a fair Lady from harm, is surely the 
most fitting to serve her ; and that Lady who is fairest 
and who will never swerve from her faith, is the most 
fitting to deserve his service. 

So after the proof of prowess well ended came 
next the contest of the sovereign grace of beauty, in 
which the girdle of Florimell should fall to her who 
most excelled. Many wished to win it only from vanity, 
and not for the wondrous virtues which some said it 
possessed. For the girdle gave the gift of constant 
and loyal love to all who wore it ; but whosoever was 
false and fickle could never keep it on, for it would 
loosen itself, or else tear asunder. It was said to be of 
magic origin, and Florimell, to whom it had been given 
long ago, held it dear as her life. No wonder, then, 
that so many ladies sought to win it, for she who wore 
it was accounted to be peerless. 

The feast, therefore, being ended, the selected judges 
went down into the late field of battle to decide this 
doubtful case, for which all the ladies contended. But, 
first, inquiry was made as to which of those knights who 
had lately tourneyed had won the wager. Then it was 
judged that Satyrane had done best on the first day, for 

236 




" Ibe at bis entrance cbars'o bis powrefull spear 
Ut Brtegall, in miooest of bis pr^oe, 
Bno tberewttb smote bim on bis umbtiere 
So sore, tbat tombling back, be downe oio slgde." 



The Golden Girdle awarded 

he ended last, having begun first ; the second day was 
adjudged to Triamond, because he saved the victor from 
disaster, for Cambell was in all men's sight the victor 
till by mishap he fell into the hands of his foemen ; the 
third day's prize was adjudged to the stranger knight, 
whom they all termed the " Knight of the Ebony Spear," 
and it was given by good right to Britomart, for she 
had vanquished the " Savage Knight," who until then 
was the victor, and appeared at the last unconquered ; 
for the last is deemed best. 

To Britomart, therefore, the fairest lady was ad- 
judged as a companion. 

But Artegall greatly grudged this, and was much 
vexed that this stranger had forestalled him both of 
honour and of the reward of victory. He could not 
dispute what was decreed, but he inwardly brooded over 
the disgrace, and awaited a fit time to be avenged. 

This matter being settled and every one agreed, it 
next followed to decide the Paragon of Beauty, and 
yield to the fairest lady her due prize. 



How the Golden Girdle was awarded to the False 
Florimell 

Then each Knight in turn began to claim the golden 
girdle on behalf of his own lady. First, Cambell 
brought to their view his fair wife, Cambina, covered 
with a veil. The veil being withdrawn at once re- 
vealed her surpassing loveliness, which stole all wavering 
hearts. Next, Sir Triamond uncovered the face of his 

239 



The Legend of Britomart 

dear Candace, which shone with such beauty that the 
eyes of all were dazzled as with a great light. After 
her, Paridell produced his false Duessa. With her 
forged beauty, Duessa entrapped the hearts of some 
who considered her the fairest ; and, after these, a 
hundred more ladies appeared in turn, each one of 
whom seemed to excel the others. 

At last Britomart openly showed her lovely Amoret, 
whose face uncovered seemed like the heavenly picture 
of some bright angel. Then all who saw her thought 
that Amoret would surely bear away the prize. 

But Blandamour, who imagined that he had the 
real, true Florimell, now displayed the Snowy Lady, 
and the sight, once seen, dismayed all the rest. 

For all who had seemed bright and fair before, now 
appeared base and contemptible ; compared with her, 
they were only like stars in comparison with the sun. 
Every one who saw her was ravished with wonder ; 
they thought she could be no mortal, but must be 
some celestial being. They were all glad to see Flori- 
mell, yet thought Florimell was not so fair as this 
lady. Like some base metal overlaid with gold, which 
deceives those who see it, was this false image who 
passed for the true Florimell. Thus do forged things 
sometimes show the fairest. 

Then, by the decision of all, the golden belt was 
granted to her as to the fairest lady ; and, bringing it 
to her, they thought to place it round her waist, as 
became her best. But this they could by no means do, 
for every time they fastened the girdle, it grew loose 
and fell away, as if there were some secret fault in her. 

240 



The Golden Girdle awarded 

Again and again she put it round her waist, but again 
and again it fell apart. All the people wondered at 
the strange sight, and each one thought according to 




his own fancy. But the Snowy Lady herself thought 
it was some spiteful trick, and it filled her with wrath 
and shame as a thing devised to bring disgrace on her. 

241 o 



The Legend of Britomart 

Then many other ladies likewise tried to put on the 
girdle, but it would stay on none of them. As soon as 
they thought it fast, immediately it was untied again. 

Seeing this, a scornful knight began to jest and 
sneer, saying it was a pity that, among so many beauti- 
ful ladies, not one was found worthy to wear the girdle. 
All the knights began to laugh and all the ladies to 
frown, till at last the gentle Amoret also essayed to 
prove the girdle's power. She set it round her waist, 
and immediately it fitted perfectly, with no difficulty 
whatever. 

The others were very envious, and the Snowy 
Lady was greatly fretted. Snatching the belt angrily 
from Amoret, she again tied it round her own body, 
but none the more would it fit her. 

Nevertheless, to her, as her due right, was the girdle 
yielded, for every one thought she was the true Flori- 
mell, to whom it really belonged. And now she had 
to choose her companion knight. Then she adjudged 
the prize to the " Knight of the Ebony Spear," who 
had won it in fight. But Britomart would not assent 
to this, nor give up her own companion, Amoret, for 
the sake of that strange lady, whose wondrous beauty 
she esteemed less than the wisdom and goodness of 
Amoret. 

When the other knights saw Britomart refuse, they 
were all very glad, for each hoped Florimell would 
choose himself. But the judges said that after Brito- 
mart she must next choose the second best, and that 
was the "Savage Knight." But Sir Artegall had 
already left in displeasure because he had not won the 

242 



The Golden Girdle awarded 

prize. Then she was offered Triamond, but Triamond 
loved Candace, and no one else. Then Sir Satyrane 
was adjudged to Florimell, and he was right glad to 
gain so goodly an award ; but Paridell and Blandamour 
and many other knights were very angry, and wanted 
to fight Sir Satyrane. The hideous old woman, Ate, 
with her wicked words, stirred them all up to demand 
and challenge Florimell as their right, the recompense 
which they deserved for their peril. 

Amongst the rest, with boastful, vain pretence, 
Braggadochio stepped forward and claimed her as 
his thrall, having won her in battle long ago. He 
called the Snowy Lady herself to witness this, and being 
asked, she confessed that it was the case. 

Thereupon all the other knights were more angry 
than ever, and they were quite ready to prepare anew 
for battle. But Sir Satyrane hit on a plan to appease 
them. He suggested that the Lady herself should 
choose which knight she preferred, and all the others 
should abide by her choice. This they agreed to. So 
Florimell was placed in the midst of them all, and every 
knight hoped she would choose him. Then, having 
looked a long time at each one, as though she wished 
to please them all, the Snowy Lady walked up to 
Braggadochio, and the two went off together. 

Britomart took no part in the struggle for Florimell, 
for as soon as she saw that discord had arisen, she left 
the place. Taking with her the lovely Amoret, who 
was still looking for Sir Scudamour, Britomart rode off 
on her first quest, to seek her beloved Knight, Sir Arte- 
gall, whose image she had seen in the magic mirror. 

243 



The Legend of Britomart 

Little did she know that he was the " Savage Knight " 
with whom she had so lately fought, and who was even 
now waiting to be revenged on her. Unlucky maid, to 
seek her enemy ! Unlucky maid to seek far and wide 
for him whom, when he was nearest, she could not 
discover because of his disguise ! 



How Sir Scudamour came to the House of Care 

Thus Britomart, with much toil and grief, still 
sought the Knight whom she had seen in the magic 
mirror, and in all her sad misfortunes she found her 
fellow-wanderer, Amoret, a great comfort. But the 
gentle Scudamour, whose heart the malicious Ate had 
filled with jealous discontent, was bent on revenge — on 
revenge against the blameless Princess. The wicked 
tale told by Ate pricked his jealous heart like a thorn, 
and pierced his soul like a poisoned arrow. Nothing 
that Glauce could do or say would alter his feeling ; the 
more she tried to excuse Britomart, the worse it fretted 
and grieved him night and day, so that nothing but 
dire revenge might abate his anger. 

Thus as they travelled, night, gloomy with cloud 
and storm and bitter showers, fell upon them before its 
usual hour. This forced them to seek some shelter 
where they might hide their heads in quiet rest. Not 
far away, unfitting for any guest, they spied a little 
cottage, like some poor man's dwelling. It was placed 
under a steep hillside, where the mouldering earth had 
hollowed out the bank. A small brook of muddy water, 

244 



The House of Care 

bad-smelling as a puddle, passed close to it, bordered 
by a few crooked willows. 

When Sir Scudamour and Glauce came nearer, they 
heard the sound of many iron hammers ceaselessly beat- 
ing in turn, so that it seemed as though some black- 
smith dwelt in that desert place. Entering, they found 
the good man himself bent busily at work. He was a 
wretched, worn creature, with hollow eyes and wasted 
cheeks, as if he had been long pent in prison. His 
face was black and grisly-looking, smeared with smoke 
that nearly blinded his eyes. He had a ragged beard 
and shaggy hair, which he never cut nor kept in order. 
His garment was rough and all torn to rags ; he had 
no better, nor cared for any better. His hands were 
blistered and burnt from the cinders, all unwashed, with 
long nails fit to rend the food on which he lived. 

This creature was called Care. He was a black- 
smith by trade, who never ceased working, day or 
night, but made iron wedges of small use. (These are 
unquiet thoughts,, that invade anxious minds.) 

He kept six servants hard at work, always standing 
round the anvil with great huge hammers, who never 
rested from battering stroke on stroke. All six were 
strong men, but each was stronger than the one before, 
so they went up, as it were, in steps. So likewise the 
hammers which they bore succeeded, like bells, in due 
order of greatness. The last servant far exceeded the 
first in size ; he was like some monstrous giant. So 
dreadfully did he beat the anvil that it seemed as if he 
would soon drive it to dust. So huge was his hammer, 
and so great his energy, that it seemed as though he 

2 45 



The Legend of Britomart 

could break and rend asunder a rock of diamond if he 
cared to try. 

Sir Scudamour greatly wondered at the manner of 
their work and weary labour, and having beheld it for 
a long time, at last inquired the cause and end of it. 
But all his questions were in vain, for they would not 
stop from their work for anything, nor listen to what 
he said. Even the gusty bellows blew fiercely, like the 
north wind, so that no one could hear. " Sadness " 
moved them, and the bellows were " Sighs." 

The warrior, seeing this, said no more, but lay 
down to rest in his armour. To rest he lay down on 
the floor — in olden days the best bed for adventurous 
knights — and thought to have refreshed his weary 
limbs. And the aged nurse, Glauce, his faithful 
squire, also laid her feeble joints down, for her age 
and weakness much needed rest after so long and 
tiring a journey. 

There lay Sir Scudamour, long expecting the 
moment when gentle sleep would close his weary 
eyes, turning often from side to side, and often choos- 
ing a new place where it seemed he might repose 
better. And often in wrath he again rose from there, 
and often in wrath lay down again. But wherever he 
disposed himself, he could by no means obtain the 
desired ease ; every place seemed painful, and each 
alteration useless. 

And evermore when he thought to sleep, the sound 
of the hammers jarred his nerves, and evermore when 
he began to get drowsy, the noise of the bellows 
disturbed his quiet rest. All night the dogs barked 

246 




" lUbereto approacbing nigb tbe\? bearD tbe sound 
Of mane Bron bammers beating ranfce." 



The House of Care 

and howled around the house, scenting the stranger- 
guest ; and now the crowing cock, and now the owl 
shrieking loudly, fretted his very soul. 

If by fortune a little drowsiness chanced to fall on 
his heavy eyelids, immediately one of the villains rapped 
him on the head with his iron mallet, so that he awoke 
at once and started up quickly, as one afraid, or as if 
one had suddenly called him. Thus he was often 
roused, and then he lay musing on the unhappy cause 
that had led him to the House of Care. 

At last his weary spirit, too tired to resist further, 
gave place to rest ; yet even now he was troubled with 
bad dreams. Then the wicked creature, the master- 
smith, took a pair of red-hot iron tongs and nipped 
him in the side, so that his heart quite quaked at the 
pain. Thereupon he started up to be avenged on the 
person who had broken his quiet slumber, but looking 
round about him he could see no one, yet the smart 
remained, though the giver of it fled. 

In such disquiet and heart- fretting pain, Sir Scuda- 
mour passed all that long night, and now the day 
began to peep over the earth, sprinkling the morning 
grass with pearly dew. Then up he rose, like a heavy 
lump of lead, and one could plainly read in his face, 
as in a looking-glass, signs of the anguish he had gone 
through. 

He mounted his war-horse and set forth again on 
his former journey, and with him also went Glauce, 
the aged squire, ready to share whatever pain and 
peril might be in store. 



249 



The Legend of Britomart 



How the "Savage Knight" met the "Knight 
with the Ebony Spear " 

The day after Sir Scudamour left the House of 
Care, as he rode sadly on his way, he unexpectedly saw 
an armed Knight sitting in the shade on the edge ot 
a forest, while his steed grazed beside him. Directly 
this Knight saw Scudamour, he mounted and rode 
eagerly towards him, as if he intended mischief; but, 
as soon as he saw the arms borne by him, he lowered 
his spear and turned aside. Sir Scudamour wondered 
at this, but the other said, " Ah, gentle Scudamour, 
I submit myself to your grace, and ask pardon 
of you for having this day almost done you an 
injury." 

Whereupon Scudamour replied, " Small harm is 
it for any warrior to prove his spear, without malice, 
on a venturous knight. But, sir, since you know my 
name, pray tell me what is your own ? " 

" Truly, you must excuse me from making known 
my right name now, for the time has not yet come for 
it," was the reply ; " but call me the Savage Knight, as 
others do." 

" Then tell me, Sir Savage Knight," said Scuda- 
mour, " do you dwell here, within the forest, which 
would answer well with your array ? — Or have you put 
it on for some special occasion, as seems more likely, 
as you shun known arms ? " 

"The other day a stranger Knight brought shame 
and dishonour on me," replied the Savage Knight. " I 

250 



The "Savage Knight" 

am waiting to revenge the disgrace whenever he shall 
pass this way, by day or night." 

" Shame be his reward who purposes shame ! " said 
Scudamour. " But what is he by whom you were 
shamed ? " 

" A stranger Knight, unknown by name, but known 
by fame and by an ebony spear, with which he bore 
down all who met him. He, in an open tourney lately 
held, stole away from me the honour of the game, 
and having felled me (already weary), reft me of the 
fairest lady, whom he has ever since withheld." 

When Scudamour heard mention of the spear, be 
knew right well it was Britomart, who also, as he 
imagined, had taken Amoret from himself. Then 
his jealous heart swelled with rage, and he said 
sharply, " And that is not the first unknightly act 
which that same knight has done to other noble 
warriors, for he has lately stolen my lady from me, 
for which he shall pay dearly before long ; and if to 
the vengeance decreed by you this hand can supply 
any help or succour, it shall not fail whensoever you 
need it." 

So they both agreed to wreak their wrath on Brito- 
mart. 

While they thus talked together, lo ! far away they 
saw a Knight gently riding towards them. He was 
attired in foreign armour and strange array, and when 
he came near they saw plainly he was the same for 
whom they waited. 

Then said Scudamour, " Sir Savage Knight, let me 
beg this, that since I was the first to be wronged, let 

251 



The Legend of Britomart 

me be the first to requite it, and if I happen to fail, 
you shall recover my right." 

This being yielded, Sir Scudamour prepared his 
spear for battle, and ran fiercely against Britomart. 
But she gave him so rude a welcome that she smote 
both man and horse to the ground, from which they 
were in no hurry to rise. The sight of his mischance 
added fresh fuel to Artegall's burning rage, and thrust- 
ing forward his steel-headed lance at a venture, he rode 
against Britomart ; but his evil intention recoiled on 
himself, for unawares he suddenly left his saddle, and 
in great amazement found himself on the ground. 

Starting up lightly, he snatched forth his deadly 
blade, and assailed Britomart with such vigour that, 
although she was mounted and he on foot, she was 
forced to give ground. As they darted here and there, 
it chanced in her wheeling round that one stroke fell 
on her horse and wounded him so badly that Britomart 
was forced to alight. 

Now she could no longer use her enchanted spear. 
Casting it from her, she betook herself to her sword 
and shield, and fought so valiantly that even now she 
was almost a match for Sir Artegall ; but towards the 
end, while his strength seemed to get greater, hers grew 
less. At last, he raised his hand, and gathering all his 
force, struck such a terrible blow that it seemed as if 
nothing but death could be her fate. 

The stroke fell on her helmet, and with its force 
sheared off the visor, and from there glanced harmlessly 
downwards, and did her no more injury. 

With that, her angel face, unseen before, shone 
252 



The "Savage Knight" 

forth radiant as the dawn ; and round about it her 
yellow hair, loosed from its usual bands, appeared like 
a golden border, cunningly framed in a goldsmith's 
forge. Yet goldsmith's cunning never knew how to 
fashion such subtle wire, so clear and shining ; for it 
glistened like the golden sand which the bright water 
of Pactolus throws forth on the shore around him. 

As Sir Artegall again lifted up his hand, thinking 
to work his utmost vengeance on her, his powerless 
arm, benumbed with secret fear, shrunk back from his 
revengeful purpose, and his cruel sword fell from his 
slack fingers to the ground ; as if the steel had sense 
and felt some compassion that his hand lacked, or as 
if both of them thought to do obedience to such divine 
beauty. And Artegall himself, gazing long thereon, 
at last fell humbly down upon his knee ; and imagining 
he saw some angelic being — for he did not know what 
else it could be — he besought her to pardon his error, 
which had done her such infinite wrong, while trembling 
horror seized him, and made every limb quake and his 
brave heart quail. 

Britomart, nevertheless, full' of wrath for that last 
stroke, kept her angry hand uplifted all the while ; she 
stood over him, with a stern look, threatening to strike, 
unless he prevented her, and bidding him rise, or he 
should surely die. But die or live, nothing would 
make Sir Artegall stand up. He prayed more earnestly 
that the warrior-maiden would either pardon him or do 
with him as she chose, because of the great wrong he 
had done her. 

When Scudamour saw this, where he stood not far 
*S3 



The Legend of Britomart 

away, he was wondrously dismayed, and, drawing near 
and seeing plainly this peerless image of perfection, he 




_,..,. 



too was terrified, and did homage to Britomart as to 
some celestial vision. 

But Glauce, seeing all that happened, knew well 
how to put right their error. Glad at such a good 
ending, and rejoiced to see Britomart safe after her 

2 54 



How Britomart ended her Quest 

long toil, she advanced, and saluted her with a hearty 
greeting. Then she besought her, as she was dear to 
her, to grant truce for awhile to these warriors, which 
being yielded, they lifted their beavers and showed 
themselves to her such as indeed they were. 



How Britomart ended her Quest 

When Britomart, with keen, observant eye, beheld 
the beautiful face of Artegall, tempered with sternness, 
strength, and majesty, her mind at once recalled it 
as the same which in her father's palace she had seen 
long since in that enchanted mirror. Then her wrath- 
ful courage began to falter, and her haughty spirit to 
grow tame, so that she softly withdrew her uplifted 
hand. Yet she tried again to raise it, as if feigning 
the anger which was now cold ; but always when she 
saw his face, her hand fell down, and would no longer 
hold the weapon against him. Then having tried in 
vain to fight, she armed her tongue, and thought to 
scold him. Nevertheless, her tongue would not obey 
her will, but when she would have spoken against him, 
brought forth mild speeches instead. 

Sir Scudamour, glad at heart because he had found 
all his jealous fears false, now exclaimed jestingly, 
"Truly, Sir Artegall, I rejoice to see you bow so low, 
and that you have lived to become a lady's thrall, who 
formerly were wont to despise them ! " 

When Britomart heard the name of Artegall, her 
heart leaped and trembled with sudden joy and secret 

2 SS 



The Legend of Britomart 

fear. She flushed deeply, and thought to hide her 
agitation by again feigning her former angry mood. 

Then Glauce began wisely to put all matters right. 
First, she told both the knights not to marvel any 
more at the strange part Fate had made Britomart 
play ; then she bade Sir Artegall not to lament because 
he had been conquered by a woman, for love was the 
crown of Knighthood ; and, lastly, she entreated Brito- 
mart to relent the severity of her anger, and, wiping 
out the remembrance of all ill, to grant pardon to 
Artegall, if he would fulfil the penance she would im- 
pose on him. " For lovers' happiness is reached by 
the path of sorrow," she added. 

At this, Britomart blushed, but Sir Artegall smiled 
to himself and rejoiced in his heart ; yet he dared 
not speak too suddenly of the love he bore her, for 
her grave and modest face and royal bearing still 
kept him in awe. 

But Scudamour, whose heart hung all this while in 
suspense between hope and fear, longing to hear some 
glad and certain news of his Lady Amoret, now ad- 
dressed Britomart. " Sir, may I ask of you tidings of 
my love, my Amoret, since you freed her from her 
long and woeful captivity ? Tell me where you left 
her, so that I may seek her, as is fitting." 

" Indeed, Sir Knight, what has become of her, or 
if she has been stolen away, I cannot rightly tell you," 
replied Britomart. " From the time I freed her from 
the Enchanter's captivity, I have preserved her from 
peril and fear, and always kept her from harm, nor 
was there ever any one whom I loved more dearly ; but 

256 



How Britomart ended her Quest 

one day, as we travelled through a desert wild, both 
being weary, we alighted and sat down in the shadow, 
where I fearlessly lay down to sleep. When I awoke, 
I did not find Amoret where I had left her, but 
thought she had wandered away or got lost. I called 
her loudly, I sought her near and far, but nowhere 
could find her, nor hear any tidings of her." 

When Scudamour heard this bad news his heart 
was thrilled with fear, and he stood dazed and silent. 
Glauce tried to comfort him, bidding him not give 
way to needless dread until he was certain what had 
happened, " for she may yet be safe, though she has 
wandered away," she said. " It is best to hope the 
best, though afraid of the worst ! " 

But he took no heed of her cheerful words, till 
Britomart said, " You have, indeed, great cause of 
sorrow, sir ; but take comfort, for by the light of 
heaven I swear not to leave you, dead or living, till I 
find your Lady, and be avenged on him who stole 
her ! " 

With that he was contented. 

So, peace being established amongst them all, they 
took their horses and rode forward to some resting- 
place, guided by Sir Artegall. Here a hearty welcome 
greeted them, with daily feasting, both in bower and 
hall, until their wounds were well healed, and their 
weary limbs recovered after their late rough usage. 

And all the time Sir Artegall and Britomart grew 
more and more in love with each other, though Brito- 
mart did all she could to hide her feeling. But so 
winningly did Sir Artegall woo her that at last she was 

257 R 



The Legend of Britomart 

obliged to listen to him, and to relent. She consented 
to be his wife, and the marriage took place. 

But their happiness was not yet complete. Sir 
Artegall was all this while bound upon a hard adven- 
ture, which had still to be fulfilled, and when a fitting time 




came, he had to depart on his quest. Poor Britomart 
would scarcely let him go, though he faithfully promised 
to return directly he had achieved his task, which would 
probably take him not longer than three months. 
With that she had to be appeased for the present, how- 

258 



How Britomart ended her Quest 

ever unhappy she really felt ; and early the next morning 
Sir Artegall started. Britomart went with him for a 
while on his journey. She could not bear to part from 
him, but all the way kept trying to find excuses for 
delay. Many a time she took leave, and then again 
invented something to say, so unwilling was she to lose 
his company. But at last she could find no further 
excuse, so, with a sad heart, she left him and returned 
to Scudamour, whom she had promised to aid in his 
search for Amoret. 

Sir Scudamour and Britomart went back to the 
desert forest, where the latter had lately lost Amoret. 
They sought her there, and inquired everywhere for 
tidings, yet found none. 

But by what hapless fate or terrible misfortune the 
Lady Amoret had been conveyed away is too long to 
tell here. In another story may be read the adventures 
that befell her after she parted from Britomart. 



59 




The Squire of Low Degree 



The Giant with Flaming Eyes 

D RITOMART, the Warrior Princess, having rescued 
D the fair lady Amoret from the wicked Enchanter, 
then started forth with her to find her husband, the 
good Knight Scudamour. Riding through a forest, 
they alighted to rest, and here Britomart, overcome 
with weariness, lay down to sleep. 

Amoret, meanwhile, fearing nothing, roamed at 
pleasure through the wood. Suddenly from behind, 
some one rushed out, who snatched her up and bore her 
away. This was a huge, hideous savage, who killed and 
ate all the beautiful maidens he could get hold of. He 
carried Amoret fainting in his arms, right through the 
forest, till he came to his dwelling, a horrible cave, far 
from all people's hearing. Into this he flung her, and 
went off to see if he could secure any other victims. 

Amoret was roused by her fall, but when she looked 
260 



The Giant with Flaming Eyes 

about and found nothing around her but darkness and 
horror, she almost fainted again, and did not know 
whether she were above or under the ground. Then 
she heard some one close by sighing and sobbing, and 
found this was another beautiful lady whom the savage 
had taken prisoner. 

Amoret asked her who she was, and the lady told 
her sad story. 

She said her name was Emilia ; she was the daughter 
of a great lord, and everything went joyously with her 
till she happened to fall in love with a gentle youth, a 
Squire in her father's household. He was gallant and 
worthy enough for any lady to love, but he was not of 
noble birth like herself, and her father refused to let 
her marry him, and was angry with her for her folly. 
Nothing, however, would make her alter her mind, and 
rather than forsake her faithful Amyas she resolved to 
leave friends and family, and fly with him. A meeting- 
place in the wood was arranged, to which she came, 
but there, instead of her gallant Squire, she found the 
savage monster, who pounced on her like an eagle, and 
carried her to his cave. 

While Emilia and Amoret were talking of their 
troubles, the hideous villain who was the cause of them 
came rushing back, rolling away the stone which he 
used to stop the entrance, in order that no one might 
go out. Directly he entered, Amoret slipped past him, 
and escaped from the cave with a loud scream of 
horror. Fast she fled, but he followed as swiftly. 
She did not feel the thorns and thickets prick her 
tender feet ; neither hedge, nor ditch, nor hill, nor 

261 



The Squire of Low Degree 

dale could stop her ; she overleaped them all like a 
deer, and made her way through the thickest brush- 
wood. And whenever she looked back with anxious 
eyes and saw the grisly monster approaching, she quick- 
ened her pace, spurred on by fear. 

Long she fled thus, and long he followed, and it 
seemed as if there were no living aid for her on earth. 
But it chanced that the glorious Huntress-Queen, Bel- 
phcebe, with her companions the wood-nymphs, were 
that day chasing the leopards and the bears in that 
wild forest. A gentle squire, who was also one of 
the party, got separated from the others, and he came 
in sight of Amoret just as she was overtaken by the 
savage, who carried her away under his arm, grinning, 
and yelling with laughter. 

The squire immediately attacked the savage, but 
it was difficult to do him any harm, for the latter held 
Amoret all the while as a shield, and the squire was 
afraid of hurting her. But at last he did succeed in 
wounding the wretch, who then flung Amoret rudely 
on the ground, and flew at the squire so fiercely that 
he forced him back. 

In the midst of their battle, Belphcebe drew near. 
The robber, seeing her approach with bow in hand 
and arrows ready bent, would no longer stay to fight, 
but fled away in ghastly fear, for he knew she was 
the only one who could kill him. But fast as he flew, 
Belphcebe kept pace with him, and before he reached 
his den she sent forth an arrow with mighty force 
which caught him in the very doorway and slew him. 

Amoret and Emilia were now safe, and they lived 
262 



The Giant with Flaming Eyes 

together in the wood for some time ; but both were 
very ill — Emilia from having been kept so long a 
prisoner in the cave, where she was nearly starved, and 
Amoret from the hurts she had received in the rough 
handling of the savage. 

One day it chanced that through this wood rode 
Prince Arthur, and he came to the place where the 
two ladies dwelt. He was greatly grieved to see the 
sad state in which they were, especially Amoret, who 
looked as if she could not live long. He immediately 
drew forth some of that precious liquor which he 
always kept about him, and which had the power of 
healing all wounds. It was the same wonderful medicine 
that he had long ago given to the Red Cross Knight, 
when he rescued him from the dungeon of Giant 
Pride. Prince Arthur sprinkled a few drops of this on 
Amoret's wounds, and she soon recovered her strength. 

When the ladies were well, Prince Arthur began 
to ask what evil guide had brought them there, and 
how their harms befell. They told him all that had 
happened, and how they had been released from thral- 
dom by the beautiful Belphoebe. Then the Prince said 
he would restore them safely to their friends, and plac- 
ing them both on his war-horse, he went beside them 
himself on foot, to shield them from fear. 

Thus, when they had passed out of the forest they 
spied far away a little cottage, to which they came 
before nightfall. But entering, they found no one 
dwelling there, except one old woman who sat upon 
the ground in tattered raiment, her dirty locks scattered 
all about her, while she gnawed her nails with cruelty 

263 



The Squire of Low Degree 

and rage. She was a hideous creature to see, and no 
less hateful by nature, for she was stuffed full with 
rancour and spite, which often broke forth in streams 
of poison, bitterness, and falsehood against all who held 
to truth or virtue. Men called her name Slander. 

It was Slander's nature to abuse all goodness, and 
continually to invent crimes of which to accuse guilt- 
less people, so that she might steal away their fair 
name. No knight was ever so bold, nor any lady so 
good and loyal, but what Slander strove to defame them 
falsely ; never thing was done so well but she would 
blot it with blame, and deprive it of due praise. Her 
words were not, as common words are meant, to express 
the meaning of the mind, but they were sharp and 
bitter to pierce the heart and grieve the soul ; like the 
stings of asps that kill with their bite, her spiteful 
words pricked and wounded inwardly. 

Such was the hag, unfit to receive these guests, 
whom the greatest Prince's court would have been 
glad to welcome ; but their necessity bade them look for 
no better entertainment. It was, besides, an age which 
despised luxury. People were accustomed to hardness 
and homely fare, which trained them to warlike dis- 
cipline, and to endure carelessly any hard fortunes or 
luckless mishaps which might befall them. 

All that evening, then, welcomed with cold and 
cheerless hunger, they spent together, and found no 
fault, except that the hag scolded and railed at them for 
lodging there without her consent. But they mildly 
and patiently endured it all, regardless of the unjust 
blame and bitter reviling of such a worthless creature. 

264 




" B Squire came galloping as be woulo ffie, 
bearing a little Bwarfe before bis steeo, 
XUbom after oio a migbtie man pursew, 
IR^oing upon a Bromeoare on bte, 
©t stature buge, ano borrible of bew." 



The Giant with Flaming Eyes 

Directly it was daylight they prepared again for 
their journey, and went forth, Amoret and Emilia as 
before riding on the horse, and the Prince walking 
beside them. As soon as they departed, wicked old 
Slander followed, reviling them, and calling them bad 
names. The more they were vexed at this, the worse 
she raged and railed ; and even when they had passed 
out of sight and hearing she did not stop her spiteful 
speeches, but railed anew against the stones and trees, 
until she had dulled the sting that grew in the end of 
her tongue. 

As the travellers went slowly on their way, they saw 
galloping towards them, as if in flight, a Squire who 
bore before him on his steed a little dwarf, shrieking 
loudly for help. They were pursued by a mighty man, 
riding on a dromedary, huge of stature, and horrible to 
behold. From his terrible eyes came two fiery beams, 
sharper than needles' points, which had the power of 
working deadly poison to all who looked on him with= 
out good heed, and of secretly slaying his enemies. 
All the way he raged at the Squire, and hurled threats 
at him, but the latter fled so fast he could not over- 
take him. Seeing the Prince in his bright armour, the 
Squire called to him to pity him and rescue him from 
his cruel foe. 

Then Prince Arthur at once took down the two 
ladies from his war-horse, and mounting in their 
place came to the Squire. In another moment the 
Giant was upon them. He aimed a furious blow at 
the Squire, which would certainly have killed him, had 
not the noble Prince defeated the stroke by thrusting 

267 



The Squire of Low Degree 

forward, and meeting it on his own shield. It fell 
with such force that it drove the shield aside, and 
knocked both the Squire and the dwarf to the ground. 
Then Prince Arthur, enraged, smote at the Pagan with 
all his might and main, and killed him. 

When the Squire saw his foe dead he was indeed 
glad, but the dwarf howled aloud to see his lord slain, 
and tore his hair, and scratched his face for grief. 

Then the Prince began to inquire about everything 
that had happened, and who he was whose eyes flamed 
with fire. And all this the Squire then told him : — 



"For his Friend's Sake " 

"This mighty man whom you have slain," said the 
Squire, " is the son of a huge giantess. By his strength 
he gained rule to himself and led many nations into 
thraldom, conquering them, however, not in battle, 
by armies of men with waving banners, but by the 
power of his malignant eyes, with which he killed all 
who came within his control. Never before was he 
vanquished, but always vanquished all with whom he 
fought. Nor was there any man so strong but what 
he bore him down, nor any woman so fair but he made 
captive of her ; for his chief desire was to make spoil 
of strength and beauty, and utterly to destroy them. 
Because of his wicked eyes, which cast flakes of fire 
into the hearts of those who looked at him, he was 
rightly called Corflambo. 

" He has left one daughter who is named the fair 
268 



For his Friend's Sake 

Pceana, who seems outwardly as fair as living eye ever 
yet saw ; and if her virtue were as bright as her beauty, 
she would be as fair as any one on earth. But she is 
too much given to folly and pleasure, and is also too 
fickle and too fanciful. 

" Well, as it happened, there was a gentle Squire 
who loved a lady of noble birth ; but because his low 
rank forbade his hoping to marry so high, her friends 
sagely counselled her against letting herself down to his 
level. But Emilia would not break the promise she 
had given Amyas, for she loved him truly, and holding 
firmly to her first intention, she resolved to marry him, 
in spite of all her friends. They appointed, therefore, 
a time and place of meeting, but when accordingly the 
Squire repaired there, a sad misadventure happened. In- 
stead of finding his fair Emilia, he was caught unawares 
by Corflambo, who carried his wretched captive, dis- 
mayed with despair, to his dungeon, where he remained 
unaided, and unsought by any one. 

" The Giant's daughter came one day in glee to the 
prison, to view the captives who lay in bondage there. 
Among the rest she chanced to see this gallant youth, 
the Squire of low degree. She took a great liking to 
him, and she promised that if he would love her in 
return he should have his liberty. 

" Amyas, though plighted to another lady to whom 
he firmly meant to keep his faith, thought he had better 
take any means of escape offered by fortune, and there- 
fore pretended to like Pceana a very little, in order 
to win her favour and get his liberty. But the Giant's 
daughter still kept him in captivity, fearing that if she 

269 



The Squire of Low Degree 

set him free he would leave at once and forget her. 
Yet she showed him so much favour above the other 
prisoners that he was allowed sometimes to walk about 
her pleasure gardens, having always a keeper with him. 
The keeper was this dwarf, her pet menial, to whom as 
a special favour she commits the keys of all the prison 
doors. He can, at his will, release those whom he 
chooses, and those also whom he chooses he can reserve 
for more severe punishment. 

" When tidings of this reached me, I was deeply 
grieved because of the great love I bear to Amyas, and 
I went to the Castle of Corflambo. There I concealed 
myself for a long time, till one day the dwarf discovered 
me, and told his mistress that her Squire of low degree 
had secretly stolen out of prison ; for he mistook me for 
Amyas, because no two people were ever more alike. 

" I was taken and brought before the Giant's 
daughter, who being also beguiled by the likeness, 
began to blame me for seeking to escape by flight from 
one who loved me so dearly ; and then she ordered me 
again to prison. Glad of this, I did not contradict her, 
nor make any resistance, but suffered that same dwarf 
to drive me to the dungeon. 

" There I found my faithful friend in heavy plight 
and sad perplexity, for which I was sorry, yet bent 
myself to comfort him again with my company. But 
this, I found, grieved him the more ; for his only joy 
in his distress, he said, was the thought that Emilia and 
I were free. He loved Emilia well, as I could guess, 
and yet he said his love for me was even greater. 

"But I reasoned with him and showed him how easy 
270 




Gbis (Brant's oaugbter came upon a cap. 
THnto tbe prison in ber jogous glee, 
Go view tbe tbrals wbicb tbere in bonoage lap. 



For his Friend's Sake 

it would be to manage a disguise because of our 
likeness, so that either we could change places or his 
freedom might be gained. He was most unwilling to 
agree, and would not for anything consent that I, who 
was free and out of danger, should wilfully be brought 
into thraldom. Yet, over-ruled at last, he consented. 

" The next day, at about the usual hour, the dwarf 
called at the door of the dungeon for Amyas to come 
directly to his lady's bower. Instead of Amyas, I — 
Placidas — came forth, and, undiscovered, went with him, 
The fair Poeana received me with joy, and gave me an 
affectionate greeting, thinking that I was Amyas. Not 
having any former love of my own, I was quite willing 
to accept her kindness and favour, as indeed it was ex- 
pedient to do. I pretended to make excuses for my 
former coldness, and promised to be more amiable in 
future. All this I did, not for my own sake, but to 
do good to my friend, for whose liberty alone I staked 
love and life. 

" Thenceforward I found more favour at Poeana's 
hand. She bade the dwarf who had charge of me 
lighten my heavy chains and grant me more scope to 
walk abroad. So, one day, as I played with him on the 
flowery bank of a stream, finding no means of gaining 
our freedom unless I could convey away the dwarf, 
I lightly snatched him up and carried him off. 

" He shrieked so loudly that at his cry the tyrant 
himself came forth and pursued me. Nevertheless I 
would not give up my prey, and hither by force I 
have brought him." 

As Placidas spoke thus to Prince Arthur, the two 
273 s 



The Squire of Low Degree 

ladies, still doubtful through fear, came near, wishing 
to hear tidings of all that had happened. 

Directly Emilia spied her captive lover's friend, 
young Placidas, she sprang towards him, and throwing 
her arms round him, exclaimed, " Does Amyas still 
live ? " 

" He lives," said Placidas, " and loves his Emilia." 

" Not more than I love him," she cried. " But 
what misfortune has kept him so long from me ? " 

Then Placidas told her how Amyas had been taken 
captive. It filled her tender heart with pity to hear 
of the misery in which he had lain so long, and she 
eagerly begged Prince Arthur to set him free. This 
the Prince readily consented to do, and well he per- 
formed his work. 



The Giant's Daughter 

Of all human affection the love of one friend 
for another is surely the noblest and most unselfish ; 
and this true friendship Amyas and Placidas had 
for each other — not even their affection for kindred 
or fairest lady could shake their loyalty. For though 
Pceana were as beautiful as the morning, yet Placidas, 
for his friend's sake, scorned her offered favours. His 
only thought was what he could do to set Amyas free. 

Now after Prince Arthur had promised to succour 
the Squire who had lain so long in prison, he next 
began to consider how best he could effect his purpose. 
Taking up the dead body of the Giant, he firmly bound 

274 




Zbexe bib be ffno in ber Delicious bower 
XLbc tair pceana placing on a rote." 



The Giant's Daughter 

it on the dromedary, and made it so to ride as if it 
were alive. Then he took Placidas and placed him in 
front of Corflambo, as if he were a captive ; and he 
made the dwarf (though very unwillingly) guide the 
beast till they drew near the castle. When the watch- 
man who kept continual guard saw them thus coming 
home, he ran down, without doubt or fear, and un- 
barred the gate, and the Prince following passed in 
with the others. 

There in her delicious bower he found the fair 
Poeana playing on a rote, complaining of her cruel 
lover, and singing all her sorrow in music. So sweet 
and lovely she seemed that the Prince was half-en- 
tranced, but wisely bethinking himself of what was 
right, he caught her unawares and held her captive. 

Then he took the dwarf and compelled him to open 
the prison door, and to bring forth the thralls which 
he kept there. Over a score of unknown knights and 
squires were brought to him, all of whom he freed 
from their bitter bondage, and restored to their former 
liberty. Among the rest came the Squire of low degree, 
all weak and wan. As soon as Emilia and Placidas 
beheld him they both ran and embraced him, holding 
him fast between them, and striving all they could to 
comfort him. 

The Giant's daughter, seeing this, envied them both, 
and bitterly railed at them, weeping with rage and 
jealousy. But when they had been for some time to- 
gether, talking over their adventures, although Pceana 
had often seen Amyas and Placidas separately, she 
began to doubt which was really the captive Squire 

277 



The Squire of Low Degree 

whom she had loved so dearly ; for they appeared 
so alike in face and person that it was difficult to dis- 
cover which was which. So also Prince Arthur was 
amazed at their resemblance, and gazed long in wonder, 
as did the other knights and squires who saw them. 

Then they began to ransack the Giant's castle, in 
which they found great store of hoarded treasure, which 
the tyrant had gathered by wicked means. Prince 
Arthur took possession of this, and afterwards remained 
a little while at the castle to rest himself, and refresh 
the ladies Amoret and Emilia, after their weary toil. 
To these also he gave part of the treasure. 

To add to the rejoicing, he set free the captive 
lady, the fair Poeana, and placed her in a chair of 
state with the rest, to feast and frolic. But she would 
show no gladness nor pleasant glee, for she was grieved 
for the loss both of her father and of her lands and 
money. But most of all she deeply grieved for the Joss 
of the gentle Squire Placidas, whom she now really 
loved. 

But Prince Arthur, with his accustomed grace, 
charmed her to mild behaviour from the sullen rude- 
ness which spoilt her. With gentle words and manner 
he calmed her raging temper, and softened the bitter- 
ness that gnawed at her heart and kept her from the 
feast ; for although she was most fair to see, she spoilt 
all her beauty by cruelty and pride. And in order to 
end everything with friendly love — since love was the 
cause of her grief — Prince Arthur wisely urged the 
trusty Squire Placidas not to despise without better 
trial the lady who loved him so dearly, but to accept 

778 



The Giant's Daughter 

her to be his wedded wife. Placidas was quite willing 
to marry Poeana ; so all their strife came to an end. 

From that day forth they lived long together in 
peace and happiness : no private quarrel nor spite of 
enemies could shake the calm security of their position. 
And she whom Nature had created so fair that she 
could match the fairest of them all, and yet who had 
spoilt it by her own wayward folly, henceforth reformed 
her ways, so that all men marvelled at the change, and 
spoke in praise of her. 

Thus having settled these friends, Amyas and 
Placidas, in peace and rest (for Amyas, of course, 
married his dear Emilia), Prince Arthur again went on 
his way ; and with him went the Lady Amoret, for 
she had still to find her husband, the good Knight 
Scudamour. 



279 




The Adventures of Sir Artegall 



" The champion of true Justice, Artegall." 
" Wise, warlike, personable, courteous, and kind." 



The Sword of Justice and the Iron Man 

/^\NE of the noblest heroes at the Court of the 
^-^ Faerie Queene was Artegall, the champion of 
Justice. After his marriage with Britomart, it may be 
remembered, he started on a hard adventure, which Jed 
him into much peril. This was to succour a distressed 
lady whom a strong tyrant unjustly kept captive, with- 
holding from her the heritage which she claimed. 
The lady was called Irene {Peace), and the Tyrant, 
Grantorto {Great Wrong). 

280 



The Sword of Justice 

When Irene came to the Faerie Queene to beg re- 
dress, Queen Gloriana, whose delight it was to aid all 
poor suppliants, chose Artegall to restore right to her, 
because he seemed the best skilled in righteous learning. 

Even from his cradle Artegall had been brought up 
to justice ; for one day when he was a little child play- 
ing with his companions, he had been found by a great 
and wonderful lady called Astraea, who, while she dwelt 
here among earthly men, instructed them in the rules of 
justice. Seeing that the boy was noble and fit for her 
purpose, she persuaded him to go with her. She took 
him far away to a lonely cave, in which she brought him 
up, and taught him all the discipline of justice. She 
taught him to weigh equally both right and wrong, and 
where severity was needed to measure it out according 
to the line of conscience. For want of mankind she 
caused him to practise this teaching on wild beasts which 
she found in the woods wrongfully oppressing others of 
their own kind. Thus she trained him, and thus she 
taught him to judge skilfully wrong and right till he 
reached the years of manhood, so that even wild beasts 
feared him, and men admired his over-ruling might. 
Nor was there any living person who dared withstand 
his behest, much less match him in fight. To make 
him more dreaded, Astrasa gave Artegall a wonderful 
sword, called " Chrysaor," which excelled all other 
swords. It was made of most perfect metal, tempered 
with adamant, all garnished with gold upon the blade, 
whereby it took its name. It was no less powerful 
than famous, for there was no substance so firm and 
hard but it could pierce or cleave, nor any armour that 

281 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

could guard off the stroke, for wherever it lighted, it 
cut completely through. 

In course of time Astrasa left this world, and went 
to live among the stars, from which she had first come. 
But she left behind her on earth her servant, an Iron 
Man, who always attended on her to execute her judg- 
ments, and she bade him go with Artegall and do what- 
ever he was told. The man's name was Talus ; he was 
made of iron mould, immovable, irresistible, unchang- 
ing ; he held in his hand an iron flail, with which he 
threshed out falsehood and unfolded the truth. 

Talus, therefore, went with Sir Artegall on this new 
quest, to aid him, if he chanced to need aid, against 
the cruel tyrant who oppressed the Lady Irene and kept 
the crown from her. Nothing is more honourable to 
a knight, nor better becomes brave chivalry, than to 
defend the feeble in their right, and redress the wrongs 
of those who go astray. So the heroes of old won their 
greatest glory, and herein this noble Knight excelled, 
who now went forth to dare great perils for the sake 
of justice. 

As Artegall and Talus went on their way they 
chanced to meet the servant of Florimell, who told the 
good news that his lady was safe and well, and engaged 
to be married to her own true knight, Marinell. Sir 
Artegall was very glad to hear this, and asked when the 
wedding was to take place, for if he had time he would 
like to be present to do honour to the occasion. 

"The wedding will be within three days," said the 
man, " at the Castle of the Strand ; at which time, if 
nothing hinders me, I shall be there to do her service, 

282 




♦ . ♦ "3for want tbere of mankino, 

Sbe caused bim to make experience 

Iflpon wglfc beasts, wbicb sbe in wooos MO fino 

lixaitb wrortfitull powre oppressing otbers of tbeir KinD," 



The Sword of Justice 

as I am bound. But in my way, a little beyond here, 
dwells a cruel Saracen who keeps with strong hand 
the passage of a bridge. He has killed there many 
a knight-errant, wherefore all men, out of fear, shun 
the passage." 

" What sort of person, and how far away, is he who 
does such harm to travellers ? " asked Artegall. 

" He is a man of great defence, expert in battle 
and in deeds of arms," was the answer ; " and he is 
made much bolder by the wicked spells with which his 
daughter supports him. He has got large estates and 
goodly farms by oppression and extortion, with which 
he still holds them. His crimes increase daily, for he 
never lets any one pass that way over his Bridge, be he 
rich or poor, without paying him toll-money. His 
name is called Pollente, because he is so strong and 
powerful ; he conquers every one, — some by his 
strength, and some also he circumvents by cunning. 
For it is his custom to fight on the bridge, which is 
very narrow, but exceedingly long, and in this bridge 
are fixed many trap-falls, through which, not noticing, 
the rider falls down. Underneath the bridge flows a 
swift and dangerously deep river, into which falls 
headlong, destitute of help, any one whom the Saracen 
overthrows. But the tyrant himself, because of his 
long practice, leaps forth into the flood, and there 
assails his foe, confused by his sudden fall, so that 
horse and man are both equally dismayed, and either 
drowned or treacherously slain. Then Pollente robs 
them at will, and brings the spoil to his daughter, who 
dwells hard by. She takes everything that comes, and 

285 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

fills her wicked coffers, which she has heaped so high 
by wrong-doing that she is richer than many a prince, 
and has purchased all the country lying near with her 
ill-gotten revenue. Her name is Munera. 

"She is very beautiful and richly attired; her hands 
are made of gold, and her feet of silver. Many great 
lords have wished to marry her, but she is so proud that 
she despises them all." 

"Now by my life, and with Heaven to guide me," 
said Sir Artegall, " no other way will I take this day 
but by that bridge where the Saracen abides ; therefore 
lead me thither." 



The Adventure of the Saracen's Bridge 

Sir Artegall soon came to the place where he saw 
the Saracen ready armed on the bridge, waiting for 
spoil. When he and Talus drew near to cross it, an 
ugly-looking rascal came to them to demand passage- 
money, according to the custom of the law. "Lo ? 
there are your wages ! " said Sir Artegall, and smote 
him so that he died. 

When the Pagan saw this he grew very angry, and 
at once prepared himself for battle ; nor was Sir Artegall 
behind, so they both ran at each other with levelled 
spears. Right in the middle, where they would have 
met breast to breast, a trap was let down to make them 
fall into the river. The wicked wretch leaped down, 
knowing well that his foe would fall ; but Sir Artegall 
was on his guard, and also leaped before he fell. 

286 



The Saracen's Bridge 

Then both of them being in the stream they flew 
at each other violently, the water in no way cooling 
the heat of their temper but rather adding to it. But 
there the Saracen, who was well used to fighting in the 
water, had great advantage, and often almost overthrew 
Sir Artegall. The charger, also, which he rode could 
swim like a fish. 

When Sir Artegall saw the odds against him, he 
knew there was no way but to close hastily with his 
foe, and driving strongly at Pollente he gripped him 
fast by his iron collar, and almost throttled him. 
There they strove and struggled together, each trying 
to drag the other from his horse, but nothing could 
make Artegall slacken his grip. At length he forced 
Pollente to forsake his horse's back, for fear of being 
drowned, and to betake himself to his swimming. 
There Pollente had no advantage, for Artegall was 
skilful in swimming, and dared venture in any depth 
of water. So every knight exposed to peril should 
be expert in swimming and able to make his way 
through water. 

For some time the end of the contest was doubtful, 
for besides being skilled in that exercise, both were 
well trained in arms and thoroughly tried. Arte- 
gall, however, kept his breath and strength better, so 
that his foe could no longer withstand him, nor bear 
himself upright, but fled from the water to the land. 
Artegall, with his bright sword, Chrysaor, pursued him 
so closely that Pollente had scarcely set foot on shore 
before his head was cut off. 

This done, Sir Artegall took his way to the castle 
287 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

in which Munera dwelt, guarded , by many defenders. 
Artegall sought entrance, but was refused and defied 




with a torrent of evil abuse. He was also beaten with 
stones flung down from the battlements, so that he was 

288 



The Saracen's Bridge 

forced to retire, and he bade his servant Talus invent 
some way by which he could enter without danger. 

Then Talus went to the castle gate, and let fly at 
it with his iron flail, so that it sorely terrified all the 
warders, and made those stoop who had borne them- 
selves so proudly. He battered and banged on the 
door, and thundered strokes so hideously that he shook 
the very foundations of the building, and filled all the 
house with fear and uproar. 

At this noise the Lady Munera appeared on the 
castle wall. When she saw the dangerous state in 
which she stood, she feared she would soon be de- 
stroyed, and began with fair words to entreat the Iron 
Man below to cease his outrage ; for neither the force 
of the stones which they threw, nor the power of 
charms which she wrought against him could make 
him stop. 

But when she saw him proceed, unmoved by pity 
or by prayers, she tried to bribe him with a goodly re- 
ward. She caused great sacks with countless riches to be 
brought to the battlements, and poured over the castle 
wall, so that she might gain some time, though dearly 
bought, whilst he gathered up the gold. 

Talus was not in the least moved or tempted by 
this, but still continued his assault with the iron flail, 
so that at length he rent down the door, and made a 
way for his master. When Artegall entered, it was no 
use for any one to try to withstand him. They all 
fled ; their hearts failed them, and they hid in corners 
here and there ; and their wicked lady herself, half- 
dead, hid in terror. For a long time no one could find 

289 T 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

her, but Talus, who, like a bloodhound, could track out 
secret things, at length found her where she lay hidden 
under a heap of gold, and dragged her forth. Sir 
Artegall himself pitied her sad plight, but he could not 
change the course of justice. Like her father, Munera 
had to be punished, in order to warn all mighty people 
who possess great power that they must use it in the 
right way, and not oppress the feeble. The Tyrant's 
daughter was thrown into the water, and the stream 
washed her away. 

Then Talus took all the ill-gotten gold and trea- 
sure which her father had scraped together by hook and 
crook, and burning it into ashes, poured it into the 
river. Lastly, he pulled down the castle to its very 
foundation, and broke up all the hewn stones, so that 
there could be no hope of its being restored, nor 
memory of it among any nation. All which Talus 
having thoroughly performed, Sir Artegall reformed 
the evil fashion and wicked customs of the bridge ; 
and this done, he returned to his former journey. 



The Giant with the Scales 

After travelling a long, weary way, Sir Artegall 
and Talus came near the sea, and here one day they 
saw before them an immense crowd of people, stretch- 
ing out as far as the eye could reach. They were much 
astonished at this great assembly, and therefore ap- 
proached to ask what had brought them together. 
There they beheld a mighty giant standing on a rock, 

290 



The Giant with the Scales 

and holding high in his hand a great pair of scales, 
with which he boasted in his presumption that he 



^^fc^ "* 




^^^t^ 



would accurately weigh the whole world, if he had 
anything to match it in the other scale. He said he 

291 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

would take up all the earth, and all the sea, divided 
from each other ; so would he also make one balance 
of the fire, and one of air, without wind or weather ; 
then he would balance heaven and hell together, and 
all that was contained within them, and would not miss 
a feather of their weight — any surplus of each that 
remained over he would restore to its own part. For, 
said he, they were all unequal, and had encroached on 
each other's share, like the sea which had worn the 
earth, as the fire had done the air. So all the rest took 
possession of each other's parts, and thus countries 
and nations had gone awry. All of which he under- 
took to repair in the way they had anciently been 
formed, and everything should be made equal. He 
would throw down the mountains and make them 
level with the plain ; the towering rocks he would 
thrust down into the deepest sea ; he would suppress 
tyrants, so that they should no longer rule ; and all the 
wealth of the rich men he would take away and give 
to the poor. 

All the silly ignorant folk flocked about the giant, 
and clustered thick to hear his vain delusions, like 
foolish flies round a jar of honey ; for they hoped to 
gain great benefits by him, and uncontrolled freedom. 
When Artegall saw and heard how he misled the simple 
people, he disdainfully drew near, and thus spoke to 
him without fear : — 

" You that presume to weigh the world anew, and 
restore all things to an equality, it seems to me show 
great wrong instead of right, and boast far more than 
you are able to perform." And then he went on to 

292 



The Giant with the Scales 

rebuke the giant for his folly and presumption, and 
showed him that if he could not understand nor 
weigh properly even the things that he saw, how 
much less could he attempt to balance unseen matters, 
or call into account the works of the great Ruler of 
the universe. 

But the giant would not listen to reason, for he 
had no real desire for the right, and he still tried to 
continue his false and wicked teaching. Talus, there- 
fore, seeing his mischievous ignorance, came up, and 
toppled him over into the sea, where he fell with a 
great splash and was drowned. 

When the people who had long waited there saw 
his sudden destruction, they began to gather in a tur- 
bulent mob, and tried to stir up strife, because of the 
loss of all their expectations. For they had hoped to 
get great good, and wonderful riches, by the giant's 
new schemes, and resolving to revenge his death, they 
rose in arms, and stood in order of battle. 

When Artegall saw this lawless multitude advanc- 
ing in hostile fashion, he was much troubled, and 
did not know what to do ; for he was loath to soil his 
hands by killing such a rascally crew, and yet he feared 
to retire, lest they should follow him with shame. 
Therefore he sent Talus to them to inquire the cause 
of their array, and to request a truce. But as soon as 
they saw him coming they began to attack him with 
their weapons, and rudely struck at him on every side ; 
yet they could not in the least hurt or dismay him. 
Then Talus lay about him with his flail and overthrew 
them like a swarm of flies. Not one of them dared 

293 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

come in his way, but they flew here and there, and hid 
themselves out of his sight in holes and bushes. When 
Talus saw that they all forsook the field and none of 
the rascal rout were left, he returned to Sir Artegall, 
and they went on together. 



Borrowed Plumes, and the Fate of the Snowy Lady 

After long storms and tempests the sun's face again 
shines forth joyfully, so when fortune has shown all 
her spite some blissful hours at last must needs appear. 
So it was with the Lady Florimell. After escaping 
from the cruel hyena that killed and devoured her 
milk-white palfrey, she met with many troubles and 
misfortunes ; but they were all over now, and she was 
happily betrothed to her own true Knight, Marinell. 

The time and place of the bridal were blazed far 
and wide, and solemn feasts and tournaments were 
arranged, to which a countless throng of lords and ladies 
resorted from all directions, nor was there any brave 
knight absent. It would need the tongue of a herald 
to tell the glory of the feast that day — the splendid 
service, the brilliant variety of entertainments, the pomp 
of the bridegroom, the richness of the bride's array, the 
crowd of noble ladies and gallant knights, the royal 
banquets, and the general rejoicing. When all the 
people had sufficiently feasted, they began to prepare 
themselves for deeds of arms and contests of chivalry. 

Then first of all rode forth Sir Marinell, and with 
him six more knights, to challenge all on behalf of 

294 



Fate of the Snowy Lady 

Florimell, and to maintain that she excelled all other 
ladies. Against them came every one that cared to 
joust, from every coast and country under the sun : 
no one was debarred ; all had leave who chose. Many 
brave deeds were done that day, and many a knight 
unhorsed, but little was lost or won. All that day 
the greatest praise redounded to Marinell. So also the 
second day. At the end of the fighting the trumpets 
proclaimed that Marinell was the best. 

The third day came, which would test all the others, 
and the warriors met together to finish the tournament. 
Then Marinell again showed great valour, and flew 
like a lion through the thickest of the press, so that 
every one fled from the danger, and was amazed at his 
might. But the greater the prowess, the greater the 
peri] ; Marinell pressed so far into the ranks of the 
enemy that they closed up behind him, so that he 
could by no means make a way out. He was taken 
prisoner, and bound with chains, and would have been 
led away, forsaken of all, had not some succour over- 
taken him in time. 

It happened that while Marinell was thus sorely 
beset, Sir Artegall came into the tilt-yard, with Bragga- 
dochio, whom he had lately met on the way with the 
false Florimell, the " Snowy Lady." When Artegall 
heard the bad fortune that had betided Marinell, he was 
much excited at his undeserved disgrace. He immedi- 
ately begged the braggart with whom he was riding to 
change shields with him, in order that he might be the 
better concealed, and thus armed he went forth, and soon 
overtook the knights who were leading Marinell away. 

295 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

There were a hundred of them altogether. Half of 
them set upon Sir Artegall, and half stayed behind to 
guard the prey. Artegall was not long in beating the 
first fifty, and soon snatched the prisoner from the 
other fifty. Then he quickly armed Marinell again, 
and together they overcame all the rest of the knights, 
and were left lords of the field. So Marinell was 
rescued from his foes. 

Having done this, Sir Artegall restored his shield 
to Braggadochio, who all this while had remained in 
the background. Then the trumpets sounded, and the 
judges rose, and all the knights who had borne armour 
that day came to the open hall to listen to whom the 
honour of the prize should be adjudged. 

There also in open sight came the fair Florimell 
into the public hall, to give his guerdon to every knight, 
and the best to him to whom the best should fall. 
Then they loudly called for the stranger Knight, to 
whom they should yield the garland, but he came not 
forth ; but instead of Sir Artegall came Braggadochio, 
and showed his shield, which bore the device of the 
sun, broadly blazoned on a golden field. 

The sight filled them with gladness, so to him 
they adjudged the prize of all that triumph. Then the 
shrill trumpets thrice resounded the name of Bragga- 
dochio, and thus courage lent a cloak to cowardice. 
Then the beautiful Florimell came to Braggadochio, 
and spoke graciously in praise of his gallantry, and gave 
him a thousand thanks for so well defending her cause. 

To this the boaster (which filled all knights with 
utter contempt for him) made scornful answer that 

296 



Fate of the Snowy Lady 

what he did that day he did, not for her, but for his 
own lady's sake, who excelled both her and every one 
else ; and he added further bragging and unseemly 
speeches. His words much abashed the gentle lady, 
and she turned aside, ashamed to hear what he said. 

Then he brought forth his snowy Florimell, who 
was standing near, in charge of Trompart, covered 
with a veil from people's gaze ; and when they had 
thoroughly eyed her they were stupefied with great 
amazement, saying that it was surely Florimell, or if it 
were not, then she surpassed Florimell herself. Such 
feeble skill have the vulgar with respect to perfect 
things ! 

Marinell, likewise, when he beheld, was exceedingly 
amazed, not knowing what to think or to do. He 
stood for a long time lost in astonishment, his eyes fixed 
fast on the Snowy Maid, whom the more he looked 
at, the more he thought was the true Florimell. 

When Artegall, who stood all this while close 
covered in the crowd, saw everything that passed, and 
the boasting and ungrateful cheating of Braggadochio, 
he could stand it no longer, but came forth, and 
showed himself openly to every one, and said to the 
boaster — 

4 'Base wretch, thou hast defaced another's worth 
with thy lies and decked thyself with borrowed plumes; 
when they are all restored, thou shalt be left in dis- 
grace. That shield which thou bearest was indeed the 
one which saved the day's honour to Marinell ; but 
that was not the arm, nor thou the man who did that 
service to Florimell. For proof, show forth thy sword, 

297 



The Adventures of Sir Artegal] 

and let it tell what strokes, what dreadful battle it stirred 
up this day. Or show the wounds which befejl you ! 

" But this is the sword which wrought such havoc ; 
and this the arm which bore that shield ; and these the 
signs " (he pointed to his wounds) " by which it is 
apparent the glory was got. As for that lady which 
he shows here," he continued, turning to the others, " it 
is not Florimell at all, but some worthless creature, 
fit for such a mate, who has fallen into his hand by 
misfortune ; " and for proof he bade them call the true 
Florimell. 

So the noble Lady was brought, adorned with honour 
and all comely grace, blushing with modesty, so that the 
roses mixed with the lilies in her lovely face, for she still 
felt deep shame at the rude words which Braggadochio 
had flung at her. And when the people saw her they 
shouted aloud, and all showed signs of gladness. 

Then Sir Artegal! placed her by the Snowy Lady, 
like a true saint beside some painted image, to make 
trial of their beauty, and to see which should get the 
honour. Straightway, as soon as they were both met 
together, the enchanted damsel vanished into nothing. 
Her body of snow melted as with heat, and nothing 
remained of all her goodly appearance except the empty 
girdle, which had been clasped round her waist. 

When the people present beheld this, they were 
struck with astonishment, and their hearts quailed with 
horror, to see the thing which seemed so excellent stolen 
away, so that no one understood what became of it. 
Braggadochio himself was so daunted with despair that 
he stood immovable, like a lifeless body. 

298 




44 Streiabt*wa^ t 00 soone as botb togetber met 
TO' encbaunteo 2)am3el vantsbt Into nougbt, 
1bec snowy substance melteo as wltb beat 
1Re of tbat sooolg bew remagneD ousbt" 



The Good Horse Brigadore 

But Artegall took up the golden belt, the only thing 
left of all the spoil, which was not the Snowy Lady's, 
as many mistakenly believed, but Florimell's own girdle, 
reft from her when she fled from the vile monster ; un- 
buckling it, he presented it to Florimell, who fitted it 
perfectly round her slender waist. The girdle possessed 
the magic power of breaking or becoming unfastened 
when it was put on by any unworthy person. Many 
ladies had often tried to wear it, but it fitted no one till 
it came into the hands of its rightful owner, Florimell. 



How the Good Horse Brigadore knew his 
own Master 

While every one was busied about Florimell, and in 
hearing the truth about Braggadochio, Sir Guyon, as it 
befell, came forward from the thickest of the crowd 
to claim his own good steed, which Braggadochio had 
stolen long ago. Seizing the golden bit with one 
hand, he drew his sword with the other, for he meant 
to smite the thief heavily, and had he not been held 
he would certainly have done so. 

Then a great hurly-burly arose in the hall because 
of that war-horse, for Braggadochio would not let him 
pass, and Sir Guyon was quite resolved to have him, or 
to put the matter to the proof over his dead body. 
The uproar being perceived by Artegall, he drew near 
to stay the tumult, and began to ask how the steed 
had been taken away, whether extorted by might or 
stolen by cunning. 

301 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

Then Sir Guyon told him about the Knight and 
the Lady, whom he and the Palmer had found, and 
to avenge whom he had gone on his quest against the 
wicked enchantress, Acrasia. He described how, when 
he had gone into the thicket to help the dying lady, 
his horse had been purloined by craft, for which he 
now challenged the thief to fight. But Braggadochio 
would by no means consent to this, for he hated such 
doings, and would rather lose than make trial of his 
right by an appeal to arms. 

Sir Artegall, hearing this, might then have handed 
over the horse to Sir Guyon, for according to knightly 
custom there was no need to try one's cause by the law 
of arms, if a foe refused to meet one in the f\eld. But 
wishing to establish Guyon's claim properly, he asked 
him to describe any secret token borne by the horse. 

" If that will satisfy you," said Sir Guyon, " there 
is within his mouth a black spot, shaped like a horse's 
shoe, for any one who cares to seek for it." 

In order to test this, some one took hold of the horse, 
to look into his mouth ; but the creature immediately 
struck at him so savagely with his heels that he broke 
his ribs to pieces. Another, who seemed to have a little 
more sense, took him by the bright embroidered head- 
stall, but the horse bit him so sharply on the shoulder 
that he was quite disabled. Nor would he open his 
mouth to a single person until Sir Guyon himself spoke 
to him, and called him by his name, " Brigadore." 

The instant the horse understood his voice he stood 
stock-still, and allowed every one to see the secret mark; 
and when his master called him by name he broke all 

302 




Bno out of court bim scourseo openly ; 

So ougbt all favours tbat true fcuigbtbooo sbame, 

Buo armes Dtsbonour witb base vnllanie, 

3from all brave fcnigbts be banisbt witb oefame/' 



The Two Brothers 

his fastenings with joy, and gleefully followed him, 
frisking, and prancing, and bending his head in sub- 
mission. Thereupon Sir Artegall plainly saw to whom 
he belonged, and said — 

" Lo, there, Sir Guyon, take to yourself the steed, 
arrayed as he is in his golden saddle, and let that worthless 
fellow fare hence on foot, until he has gained a horse." 

But the vain braggart began to rate and revile Sir 
Artegall for giving such an unjust judgment against 
him. The Knight was so incensed at his insolence that 
he was tempted to punish him, and thrice he laid his 
hand on his sword to slay him. But Sir Guyon pacified 
Sir Artegall, saying it would only dishonour him to 
wreak his wrath on a churl like that. It would be 
punishment enough that every one saw his disgrace 

Then Talus seized the boaster, and dragging him out 
of the hall inflicted this punishment on him„ First he 
shaved off his beard ; then he took his shield, and turned 
it upside down, and blotted out the device ; and then he 
broke his sword in two, and scattered all his armour. 
After that he openly scourged him out of the court. 

So should all traitors who shame true chivalry be 
banished with infamy from among brave knights, for 
their evil doings often bring disgrace on just merit. 



The Adventure of the Two Brothers and the Coffer 

When the wedding festivities of Marinell and Flori- 
mell were over, Sir Artegall left the Castle of the 
Strand, to follow his first quest ; and the only person 

305 u 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

who went with him to help him was his servant Talus, 
the Iron Man. 

As he passed along the sea-shore he chanced to come 
where two comely squires were having an angry quarrel. 
They were brothers, but were just now stirred up by 
some matter of debate. Two good-looking damsels 
stood beside them, trying by every means to soothe their 
ire — now by fair words, but words did little good — now 
by threats, but threats only made them angrier. Before 
them stood a strong coffer, fast bound on every side with 
iron bands, but seeming to have received much injury 
either by being wrecked upon the shore, or by being 
carried far from foreign lands. It appeared as if it were 
for this coffer the squires were fighting ; and though 
the ladies kept interfering to prevent their furious en- 
counter, yet they were firmly resolved to try their rights 
by dint of sword. Thus they both stood ready to meet 
in cruel combat when Sir Artegall, happily arriving, 
stopped for awhile their greedy bickering till he had 
inquired the cause of their dispute. To whom the 
elder made this answer : — 

" You must know, sir, we are two brothers, to whom 
our father, Milesio by name, equally bequeathed his land, 
two islands, which you see there before you, not far off 
in the sea. Of these the one appears but like a little 
mount, of small size, yet it was as great and wide, not 
many years ago, as that other island, which is now so 
much larger. 

" But the course of time, which destroys every* 
thing, and this devouring sea, which spares nothing, have 
washed away the greater part of my land, and thrown 

306 



The Two Brothers 

it up to my brother's share, so his is increased but 
mine is lessened. Before which time I loved, as it 
happened, the maid over there, called Philtera the 
Fair, with whom I should have received a goodly 
dower, and to whom I was to have been married. 

" At that time my younger brother, Amidas, loved 
the other damsel — Lucy — to whom but little dower was 
allotted. Her virtue was the dowry that delighted — and 
what better dowry can a lady possess ? But now when 
Philtera saw my lands decay, and my former livelihood 
fail, she left me 3 and went over to my brother, who, tak- 
ing her from me, completely deserted his own love. 

"Lucy, seeing herself forsaken, in despair flung 
herself into the sea, thinking to take away her grief by 
death. But see how her purpose was foiled ! Whilst 
beaten to and fro amidst the billows, hovering between 
life and death, she chanced unawares to light upon this 
coffer, which offered to her, in her danger, hope of life. 

" The wretched maiden, who had formerly desired 
death 3 now that she had had a taste of it began to 
repent that she had been so foolish, and caught hold 
of the sea-beaten chest, which after long tossing in the 
rough waves, at last rested on my island. Here I, 
wandering by chance on the shore, espied her, and with 
some difficulty helped to save her from the jaws of 
death, which threatened to swallow her up. In recom- 
pense for this she then bestowed on me those goods 
which fortune had given her, together with herself, a 
free gift — both goodly portions, but herself the better 
of the two. 

" In this coffer which she brought with her we 
307 



The Adventures of Sir Artegail 

found great treasure, which we took as our own, and 
so considered it. But this other damsel, Philtera, 
my brother's wife, pretends now that the treasure be= 




longs v to herself, that she transported the same by sea, 
to bring it to her newly made husband, but suffered 
shipwreck by the way. Whether it be so or not 

308 



The Two Brothers 

I cannot say. But whether it indeed be so or not, 
this I do say, that whatsoever good or ill Providence 
or fortune throws to me, not purposely wronging any 
one else, I hold as my own, and will so hold it still. 
And though Amidas first won away my land, and then 
my love (though now that matters little), yet he shall 
not also make prey of my good luck, but I will defend 
it as long as ever I can." 

Bracidas, the elder brother, having thus spoken, 
the younger one followed on. 

" It is quite true what my brother here has declared 
to you about the land ; but the dispute between us is 
not for that, but for this treasure, thrown upon his 
shore, which I can prove, as shall appear by trial, to 
belong to this lady, to whom I am married. It is well 
known by good marks and perfect witnesses, and there- 
fore it ought to be rendered to her without denial." 

When they had thus ended, the Knight spoke : — 

" Truly it would be easy to reconcile your strife, if 
you would submit it to some just man." 

" Unto yourself ! " they both cried. " We give you 
our word to abide the judgment you pronounce to us." 

" Then in token that you will accept my verdict, 
let each lay down his sword under my foot," said Sir 
Artegall, " and then you shall hear my sentence." 

So each of them laid down his sword out of his hand. 

Then Artegall spoke thus to the younger brother : — ■ 

" Now tell me, Amidas, if you can, by what good 

right do you withhold to-day that part of your brother's 

land which the sea has plucked away from him, and 

laid on your share ? " 

309 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

"What other right," quoth Amidas, "would you 
deem valid, except that the sea laid it to my share ? " 

" Your right is good," said Sir Artegall, " and so 
I judge it. That which the sea sent unto you should 
be your own." 

Then, turning to the elder brother, he spoke thus : — 

" Now, Bracidas, let this likewise be plain : your 
brother's treasure, which has strayed from him 3 being 
well known to be the dowry of his wife — by what right 
do you claim this to be your own ? " 

"What other right," quoth Bracidas, "would you 
deem valid, except that the sea has thrown it unto me ? " 

" Your right is good," said Sir Artegall, " and 
so I judge it. That which the sea sent unto you 
should be your own ; for equal things have equal 
rights. What the mighty sea has once possessed and 
quite plucked from its owner's hands — whether by 
the rage of the unresting waves, or tempest, or ship- 
wreck — it may dispose of by its imperial might to 
whomever it chooses, as a thing left at random. So 
in the first place, Amidas, the land was declared to be 
yours ; and so, in like manner, Bracidas, the treasure 
is yours by right," 

When Sir Artegall had thus pronounced sentence, 
both Amidas and Philtera were displeased, but Bracidas 
and Lucy were very glad, and immediately took posses- 
sion of the treasure, in accordance with the judgment. 

So their discord was appeased by this sentence, 
and each one had his right ; and Sir Artegall, having 
stopped their contention, went on his way. 



310 



Queen of the Amazons 



Radigund, Queen of the Amazons 

As Sir Artegall travelled on his way he saw far off 
a crowd of many people, to whom he hastened, in 
order to discover the cause of such a large assembly. 
When he came near he saw a strange sight — a troop of 
women clad in warlike fashion, with weapons in their 
hands, as if ready to fight ; and in the midst of them he 
saw a Knight, with both hands pinioned behind him, and 
round about his neck a halter tight, ready prepared for 
the gallows. His head was bare and his face covered, 
so that it was not easy to distinguish him. He went 
along with a heavy heart, grieved to the soul, and 
groaning inwardly that he should die so base a death at 
the hands of women. But they, like merciless tyrants, 
rejoiced at his misery, and reviled him, and sorely re- 
proached him with bitter taunts and terms of disgrace. 

When Artegall, arriving at the place, asked what 
cause had brought the man to destruction, the women 
swarmed eagerly around him, meaning to lay their 
cruel hands on him, and to do him some unexpected 
mischief. But he was soon aware of their evil mind, 
and drawing back defeated their intention. He was 
ashamed to disgrace himself by fighting with women, so 
he sent Talus to punish them for their rash folly. With 
a few strokes of his iron flail the latter speedily dis- 
persed their troop, and sent them home to tell a piteous 
tale of their vain prowess turned to their own injury. 

The wretched man doomed to death they left 
behind them, glad to be quit of them. Talus soon 

311 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

set him at liberty, and released him from his horror at 




such a shameful death, unfitting a knight, which he 
dreaded more than loss of life ; and uncovering his 

312 



Queen of the Amazons 

face, he brought him to his master, who then knew 
him at once. 

"Sir Terpin ! " cried Artegall. "Hapless man, 
what are you doing here ? Have you lost yourself and 
your senses ? Or have you, who can boast of subduing 
men, yielded to the oppression of women ? Or what 
other deadly misfortune has fallen on you 9 that you 
have run so foolishly far astray as to lead yourself to 
your own destruction ? " 

The man was so confused, partly with shame, partly 
with dismay, that he stood lost in astonishment, and 
could find little to say in excuse. 

" You may justly term me hapless, who am brought 
to this shame, and am to-day made the scorn of 
knighthood," was his only answer. "But who can 
escape Fate ? The work of Heaven's will surpasses 
human thought." 

"True," said Sir Artegall, "but faulty men often 
attribute their own folly to Fate, and lay on Heaven 
the guilt of their own crimes. But tell me, Sir Terpin 
— and do not let your misery daunt you — how you fell 
into this state." 

" Since you needs will know my shame," said the 
Knight, " and all the ill which has lately chanced to 
me, I will briefly relate it, and do not turn my mis- 
fortune to my blame. 

" Being desirous, as all knights are, to try deeds of 
arms through hard adventures, and to hunt after fame 
and honour, I heard a report which flew far abroad 
that a proud Amazon lately bade defiance to all brave 
knights, and wrought them all the villainy her malice 

3*3 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

could devise, putting some to shame, and doing many 
of them to death. 

" The cause of her hate is for the sake of a Knight 
called Bellodant the Bold, whom a short time ago 
she liked greatly, and tried in every way to attract ; 
but finding nothing of any avail, her love turned 
to hatred, and for his sake she vowed to do all the 
ill she could to other knights, — which vow she now 
fulfils. 

" For all those knights whom by force or guile she 
subdues she treats shamefully. First she despoils them 
of their armour, and clothes them in women's garments; 
then with threats she compels them to work to earn 
their food — to spin, to card, to sew, to wash, to wring. 
She gives them nothing to eat but bread and water, or 
some such feeble food, to disable them from attempt- 
ing revenge. 

" But if with manly disdain any of them withstand 
her insolent commands, she causes them to be im- 
mediately hanged on that gibbet over there, in which 
condition I stood just now ; for being conquered by 
her in fight, and put to the base service of her band, 
I chose rather to die than to live that shameful life, 
unworthy of a knight." 

" What is the name of that Amazon ? " asked Arte- 
gall. " And where, and how far hence does she live ? " 

" Her name is called Radigund," replied Sir Terpin, 
" a princess of great power, and greater pride, Queen of 
the Amazons, well tried in arms and sundry battles, 
which she has achieved with great success, and which 
have won her much glory and fame." 

3H 



Queen of the Amazons 

" Now, by my faith," said Sir Artegall, " I will not 
rest till I have tested her power, and avenged the shame 
that she shows to knights. Therefore, Sir Terpin, 
throw from you those squalid clothes, the pattern of 
despair, and go with me, that you may see and know 
how Fortune will repair your ruined name and knight- 
hood, whose praise she would tarnish." 

Sir Terpin joyfully threw off his iron fetters, and 
eagerly prepared to guide the way to the dwelling of. 
the Amazon, which was not more than a mile or two 
distant — a goodly and a mighty city, called after her 
own name Radigone. 

On their arrival they were immediately espied by 
the watchman, who warned all the city of the appear- 
ance of three warlike persons, of whom one seemed 
like a Knight fully armed, and the other two likely to 
prove dangerous. The people ran at once to put on 
their armour, swarming in a cluster like bees, and before 
long their Queen herself, looking half like a man, came 
forth into the crowd, and began to set them in array. 

And now the Knights, being arrived near, beat 
upon the gates to enter in ; threatening the porter, who 
scorned them for being so few, to tear him to pieces 
if they won the city When Radigund heard them 
her heart was torn with rage. She bade her people 
to unbar the gates at once, and to make way for the 
Knights with well-prepared weapons. 

As soon as the gates were set open the Knights 
pressed forward to make an entrance, but midway they 
were met by a sharp shower of arrows, which stopped 
them. Then all the mob attacked them savagely, 

315 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

heaping strokes so fast on every side, and with such a 
hail of arrows, that the Knights could not withstand 
them. But Radigund herself, when she espied Sir 
Terpin freed from her cruel doom, was suddenly 
seized with a fit of fury, and flying at him like a 
lioness, smote him so fiercely that he fell to the 
ground. Then she leaped to him, and placed her 
foot on his neck. 

When Sir Artegall saw the Knight's peril, he sprang 
at once to his rescue, and assailed Radigund with 
such vigour that he drove her back. For a moment 
she was stunned, but as soon as she collected her senses 
she turned on Sir Artegall, half-mad with revengeful 
anger and pride, for she had never suffered such a re- 
buff But before they could meet in fight her maidens 
flocked round her so fast that they parted them, in 
spite of their valour, and kept them far asunder. But 
amongst the others the fight lasted till the evening. 

And all the while the great Iron Man sorely vexed 
the Amazons with his strange weapon, to which they 
had never been accustomed in wan He chased and 
outran them, and broke their bows, and spoilt their 
shooting, so that not one of them all dared to go near 
him. They scattered like sheep before a wolf, and fled 
before him through all the fields and valleys. 

But when the daylight grew dim with the shadows 
of night, Radigund, with the sound of a trumpet, 
caused her people to cease fighting, and gathering 
them to the gate of the city, made them all enter, 
and had the weak and wounded conveyed in, before 
she would retreat herself. 

316 



Queen of the Amazons 

When the field was thus empty and all things quiet. 
Sir Artegall, weary with toil and travel, caused his pavilion 
to be richly prepared in full view of the city gate. He 
himself, together with Sir Terpin, rested here in safety 
all that night ; but Talus was accustomed, in times of 
jeopardv, to keep a nightly watch for fear of treachery. 

Radigund, full of heart-gnawing grief for the rebuke 
she had met that day, could take no rest nor relief, but 
tossed about in her mind in what way she could revenge 
her disgrace. Then she resolved to try her fortune in 
single fight herself, rather than see her people destroyed, 
as she had seen that day. 

She called to her a trusty maid, named Clarinda, whom 
she thought fittest for the business, and said to her — 

'' Go, damsel, quickly ; get ready to do the message 
which I shall tell you. Go you to the stranger Knight 
who yesterday drove us to such distress ; tell him that 
to-morrow I will fight with him, and try in a fair field 
which is the mightier. 

" But these conditions you must propound to him 
— that if I vanquish him he shall obey my law, and 
ever be bound to do my bidding. And so will I, if he 
vanquish me, whatever he shall like to do or say. Go 
straight, and take with you as witness six of your com- 
panions of the highest rank ; and carry with you wine 
and rich delicacies, and bid him eat : henceforth he shall 
often sit hungry." 

The damsel instantly obeyed, and putting all in 
readiness went forth to the town gate, where, sounding 
a trumpet loudly from the wall, she sent warning to the 
warrior Knights, Then Talus, issuing from the tent, 

3 l l 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

took his way fearlessly to the wall, to know what that 
sounding of the trumpet meant, whereupon the damsel 
called to him, and explained that she wished to parley 
with his lord. 

Then he conducted them at once to his master, who 
gave them a cordial greeting, and to whom they told 
their message, word for word. Sir Artegall, gladly 
accepting it, entertained them with fitting courtesy, and 
gave them rich and handsome gifts. So they turned their 
steps homeward again, but Artegall went back to rest, 
that he might be fresher against the next day's fight. 



How Sir Artegall threw away his Sword 

As soon as day dawned, the noble warriors, mindful 
of the fight before them, duly prepared themselves, the 
Knight as beseemed a knight, and the Amazon in the 
way she liked best to dress. 

She wore a light loose robe of purple silk, woven 
with silver, quilted upon white satin, and plentifully 
trimmed with ribbons ; not to hinder her movements 
it was tucked up to her knee, but could when she liked 
be lowered to her heel. Over that she wore for defence 
a small coat of mail. On her legs were painted buskins, 
laced with bands of gold ; her scimitar was lashed at her 
thigh in an embroidered belt ; and on her shoulder 
hung her shield, decked with glittering stones, so that 
it shone like the full moon. 

Thus she came forth, stately and magnificent, from 
the city gate, guarded with many damsels who waited 

318 



Sir Artegall threw away his Sword 

on her to defend her, playing on shalms and trumpets, 
the sound of which reached high into heaven ; and so 
she marched into the field, where there was a rich 
pavilion ready prepared to receive her, until it was time 
to begin the fight. 

Then forth from his tent came Artegall, armed 
from head to foot, and first entered the lists. Radi- 
gund soon followed, cruel of mind, and with a fierce 
countenance, fully bent on daring the utmost trial of 
battle. The lists were shut fast, to prevent the mob 
from rudely pressing to the centre, and they circled 
round in huge crowds to see how fortune would decide 
the dangerous problem. 

The trumpets sounded, and the fight began — bitterly 
it began and ended. The Amazon flew at Sir Artegall 
frantic with fury, but the more she raged the more 
resolute he stood. She hewed, she thrust, she lashed, 
she laid on every side. At first the Knight bore her 
blows, and forbore to return them ; but presently 
in his turn he began to attack, and so mightily did 
his strokes fall on her steel armour, that flakes of 
flame were seen flashing all round her as if she had 
been on fire. But Radigund with her shield so well 
warded off the danger of his keen weapon that she 
safely guarded her life, until at last, with one stroke of 
his blade, Sir Artegall cut away half her shield. 

This so enraged Radigund that she flew at Artegall 
with her sharp scimitar, like a bear on her prey, and 
wounded him badly in the thigh. Thereupon she began 
to boast of her triumph, and taunt the Knight with spite- 
ful speeches, as if she had already got the prize. 

319 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

Indignant at her idle vaunting, Sir Artegall struck 
at her again with such power that he shattered the other 




half of her shield, and then he smote on her helmet so 
that she sank senseless on the grassy field. 

When he saw her lying on the ground, he sprang 
towards her, and unlaced her helmet, thinking to cut 

320 



Sir Artegall threw away his Sword 

off her head ; but when he had uncovered her face 
such a miracle of loveliness shone forth that he was 
dazzled with astonishment. His heart was so pierced 
with pity that he threw away his sharp sword, reviling his 
hand that had done injury to such a vision of beauty. 

Radigund meanwhile awakened from her swoon, 
and stared about her in confusion. As soon as she saw 
the Knight standing there beside her with no weapon 
in his empty hands, she flew at him with fresh cruelty, 
and though he kept retiring she laid on him huge re- 
doubled strokes. The more he meekly entreated her 
to stay her hand from greedy vengeance, the more she 
increased her merciless attack. 

Sir Artegall could do nothing but shun her angry 
onslaught, and ward off with his shield alone, as well as 
he could, the fierceness of her rage. He begged her to 
stay her strokes, and said that he would yield himself; 
yet she would not hearken, nor give him time to breathe, 
till he had delivered to her his shield, and submitted 
himself to her mercy in the open field. 

Thus was Sir Artegall overcome — though indeed 
he was not overcome, but yielded of his own accord. 
Yet was he justly doomed by his own judgment when 
he had said unwarily that he would be her thrall 
and do her service. For though he first gained the 
victory, yet afterwards, by abandoning his sword, he 
wilfully lost that which before he had attained. 

Then Radigund struck him with the flat of her 
sword, in token of true subjection to her power, and 
as a vassal took him to thraldom. But the more 
hapless Terpin she caused to be pinioned and led away 

321 x 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

to the cruel fate from which he had but lately been 
rescued. 

But when the Amazons thought to lay hands on 
Talus, he thundered amongst them with his iron flail, 
so that they were glad to let him escape, for the heaps 
of those he slew and wounded, besides the rest which 
he dismayed, were too many to number. But all this 
while he did not once attempt to rescue his own lord, 
for he thought it just to obey. 

Then Radigund took this noble Knight, left at 
her disposal by his own wilful blame, and caused him 
to be disarmed of all the knightly ornaments with 
which he had formerly won great fame. In place 
of these she had him shamefully dressed in woman's 
clothes, and put on him a white apron instead of a 
cuirass. 

Thus clad, she brought him from the battlefield 
into a long, large chamber, decked with memorials of 
the ruin of many knights whom she had subdued ; 
amongst these she caused his armour to be hung on 
high, to betray his shame, and she broke his sword for 
fear of further harm. 

Entering, he saw round about him many brave 
knights whose names he knew well, who were there 
bound to obey the Amazon's arrogant law, all spinning 
and carding in an orderly row, so that Sir Artegall's 
brave heart loathed the unseemly sight. But the 
captive knights were forced through hunger and want 
of food to do the work appointed them, for nothing 
was given them to eat or drink, but what their hands 
could earn by twisting linen twine. 

322 



The House of Guile 

Radigund placed Sir Artegall the lowest among 
them all, and gave a distaff into his hand, that he should 
spin thereon flax and tow — a sordid office for so brave 
a mind ; thus hard is it to be the slave of a woman ! 

Yet Sir Artegall took it even in his own despite, 
and obeyed her without murmuring, since he had 
plighted his faith to become her vassal if she won 
him in fight. 



The House of Guile 

Thus for a long while Sir Artegall continued 
obediently serving proud Radigund, however much 
it galled his noble heart to obey the dictates of a 
tyrannous woman. Having chosen his lot, he could 
not now change. 

As the days went by, the Amazon Queen began to 
have a great liking for her strange captive, but for a 
long time she kept this carefully concealed, for her 
pride would not allow her to own to such a feeling 
for her lowly vassal. At last, when she could bear it 
no longer, she sent for her trusted maid, Clarinda, 
and told her to devise some means by which to dis- 
cover whether there were any chance of Sir Artegall's 
loving her, if she gave him his liberty. Clarinda 
promised to do her best, and tried by all the means 
in her power to win favour with the Knight, but the 
more she saw of him the better she liked him herself, 
so she ended by being false both to her mistress and 
to Sir Artegall. To the Queen she pretended that Sir 

323 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

Artegall was very stern and obstinate, and scorned all 
her offers of kindness and gentler treatment ; and to 
the Knight she declared that she had earnestly besought 
Radigund to grant him freedom, but the Queen would 
by no means be persuaded, and had ordered instead 
that he should be more harshly treated and laden with 
iron chains. This command, however, Clarinda said 
she would not carry out, because of her own regard 
for the Knight, and she further promised that if she 
found favour in his sight she would devise some means 
of setting him free 

Sir Artegall, glad to gain his liberty, answered 
her civilly, but determined in his heart that nothing 
should make him forsake his own true love, Britomart ; 
and deceitful Clarinda had not the least intention 
of freeing him from bondage, but considered rather 
how she might keep him more securely. Therefore 
every day she unkindly told her mistress that the 
Knight spurned her offers of goodwill, and Sir Arte- 
gall she told that the Queen refused him his freedom. 
Yet in order to win his affection, she showed him 
this much friendship, that his scanty fare was improved, 
and his work lessened. 

Thus for a long while Sir Artegall remained there 
in thraldom. 

Britomart, meanwhile, waited and longed for news 
of her absent lord, and when the utmost date assigned 
for his return had passed, a thousand fears assailed her 
doubting mind. Sometimes she feared lest a terrible 
misfortune had befallen him ; sometimes lest his false 
foe had entrapped him in a snare ; at other times a 

3 2 4 



The House of Guile 

jealous fear troubled her that perhaps Sir Artegall had 
forgotten her, and found some other lady whom he 
loved better c Yet she was loath to think so ill of him 
as this, One moment she blamed herself; another, 
condemned him as faithless and untrue ; then, trying to 
cheat her grief, she pretended she had reckoned the time 
wrong, and began to count it all over a different way. 

When months went on, and still he never came 
back, she thought of sending some one to seek him, but 
could find no one so fitting to do this as her own self. 

One day, unable to rest quietly in any place, she 
came to a window opening to the west, which was the 
way Sir Artegall had gone. There, looking forth, she 
felt many vain fancies disquiet her, and sent her winged 
thoughts swifter than wind to carry her heart's message 
to her love. As she looked long, she spied some one 
coming hastily towards her. Then she knew well 
before she saw him plainly, that it was some one sent 
from Sir Artegall ; and as he drew near, she found it 
was his servant, Talus. Filled with hope and dread 
she ran to meet him, exclaiming — 

" And where is he, thy lord, and how far hence ? 
Tell me at once. And has he lost or won ? " 

Then Talus told the whole story of Sir Artegall's 
captivity. 

Britomart listened bravely to the end, and then a 
sudden fit of wrath and grief seized her. Without 
waiting to make any answer, she got ready at once, 
donned her armour, and mounting her steed, bade 
Talus guide her on. 

So she rode forth to seek her Knight ; sadly she 
3*5 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

rode, speaking no word good or bad, and looking 
neither to the right or left. Her heart burned with 



_ *^he& ><«yi 




rage to punish the pride of that woman who had pent 
her lord in a base prison, and had tarnished his great 
honour with such infamous disgrace. 

326 



The House of Guile 

Thus riding, she chanced to meet towards evening 
a knight strolling on the plain as if to refresh himself. 
He seemed well on in years, and inclined rather to 
peace than to needless trouble, his raiment and his 
modest bearing both showing that he meant no evil. 
Coming near, he began to salute Britomart in the most 
courteous fashion. Though the Princess would rather 
have remained mute than joined in commonplace con- 
versation, yet sooner than despise such kindness she 
set her own wishes aside, and so returned his greeting 
in due form. Then the other began to chat further 
about things in general, and asked many questions, to 
which she gave careless answer. For she had little de- 
sire to talk about anything, or to hear about anything, 
however delightful ; her mind was wholly possessed by 
one thought, and there was no place for any other. 

When the stranger observed this, he no longer forced 
her to talk unwillingly, but begged her to favour him, 
since the skies were growing dark and wet, by lodging 
with him that night, unless good cause forbade it. Brito- 
mart, seeing night was at hand, was glad to yield to his 
kind request, and went with him without any objection. 

His dwelling was not far away, and soon arriving, 
they were received in the most gracious and befitting 
manner, for their host gave them excellent good cheer, 
and talked of pleasant things to entertain them. Thus 
the evening passed well, till the time came for rest. 
Then Britomart was brought to her bower, where atten- 
dants waited to help her to undress. But she would 
not for anything take off her armour, although her host 
warmly besought her ; for she had vowed, she said, not 

3 2 7 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

to lay aside this warrior garb till she had wrought re- 
venge on a mortal foe for a recent wrong ; which she 
would surely perform, let weal or woe betide her. 

When their host perceived this, he grew very dis- 
contented, for he was afraid lest he should now miss 
his purpose ; but taking leave of her, he departed. 

Britomart remained all night restless and comfort- 
less, with deeply grieved heart, not allowing the least 
twinkle of sleep to refresh her. In sorrowful thoughts 
she wore away the weary hours, now walking softly 
about, now sitting still, upright. Neither did Talus 
let sleep close his eyelids, but kept continual guard, 
lying in much discomfort outside her door, like a 
spaniel, watching carefully lest any one should by 
treachery betray his lady. 

Just at cock-crow Britomart heard a strange noise 
in the hall below, and suddenly the bed, on which she 
might have been lying, by a false trap was let to fall 
down into a lower room ; then immediately the floor 
was raised again, so that no one could spy the trap. 

At the sight of this, Britomart was sorely dismayed, 
plainly perceiving the treason which was intended ; yet. 
she did not stir, in case of more, but courageously kept 
her place, waiting what would follow. 

It was not long before she heard the sound of armed 
men coming towards her chamber, at which dreadful 
peril she quickly caught her sword, and bound her 
shield about her. As she did so, there came to her 
door two knights, all armed ready to fight, and after 
them a rascally mob, rudely equipped with weapons. 

As soon as Talus spied them he started up from 
328 



The House of Guile 

where he lay on the ground, and caught his thresher 
ready in his hand. They immediately let drive at him, 
and pressed round in riotous array, but as soon as he 
began to lay about with his iron flail, they turned and 
fled, both the armed knights and the unarmed crowd. 
Talus pursued them wherever he could spy them in the 
dark, then returning to Britomart, told her the story of 
the fray, and all the treason that was intended. 

Though greatly enraged, and inwardly burning 
to be avenged for such an infamous deed, Britomart 
was compelled to wait for daylight. She therefore 
remained in her chamber, but kept wary heed, in case 
of any further treachery. 

The cause of this evil behaviour was unknown to 
Britomart, but this is how it was. 

The master of the house was called Dolon {Guile), 
a subtle and wicked man ; in his youth he had been 
a knight, and borne arms, but gained little good and 
less honour by that warlike kind of life ; for he was 
not in the least valorous, but with sly shifts and wiles 
got the better of all noble and daring knights, and 
brought many to shame by treachery. 

He had three sons, all three like their father 
treacherous, and full of fraud and guile. The eldest, 
named Guizor, had, through his own guilty cunning, been 
slain by Artegall, and to avenge him, Dolon, with his 
other two sons, had lately devised many vile plots. He 
imagined by several tokens that his present guest was 
Artegall, but chiefly on account of the Iron Man who 
was always accustomed to remain with Artegall. Dolon, 
therefore, meant surely to have slain the Knight, but by 

329 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

the grace of heaven and her own good heed, Britomart 
was preserved from the traitor. 

The next morning, as soon as it was dawn, she 
came forth from the hateful chamber, fully intending 
to punish the villain and all his family. But coming 
down to seek them where they dwelt, she could not 
see father, nor sons, nor any one. She sought in each 
room, but found them all empty ; every one had fled 
in fear, but whither neither she nor Talus knew. 

She saw it was in vain to stay there longer, so took 
her steed, and lightly mounting, started again on her 
former way. She had not ridden the distance of an 
arrow's flight before she saw in front of her the two 
false brethren on the perilous Bridge, where Sir Arte- 
gall had fought with the Saracen. The passage was 
narrow, like a ploughed ridge, so that if two met, one 
must needs fall over the edge. 

There they thought to wreak their wrath on her, 
and began to reproach her bitterly, accusing her of 
murdering Guizor by cunning. Britomart did not 
know what they meant, but she went forward without 
pausing till she came to the perilous Bridge. There 
Talus wanted to prepare the way for her, and scare 
off the two villains, but her eyes sparkled with anger 
at the suggestion. Not staying to consider which way 
to take, she put spurs to her fiery steed, and making 
her way between them, she drove one brother at the 
point of her spear to the end of the Bridge, and hurled 
the other brother over the side of it into the river. 

Thus the Warrior Princess slew the two wicked 
sons of Goodman Guile. 

33° 



Radigund and Britomart 



The Battle of Queen Radigund and Britomart 

That night Britomart spent in the great Temple of 
Isis, which was dedicated in days of old to the worship 
of Justice. Here in her sleep she had a wondrous 
vision, which at first filled her with dread. But when 
she described it next morning to the priests in the 
Temple, they told her that her dream had a good 
meaning, and that everything would end well. Greatly 
relieved to hear this, she bestowed rich rewards on the 
priests, and made royal gifts of gold and silver to the 
Temple. Then taking leave of them, she went forward 
to seek her love, never resting and never relenting till 
she came to the land of the Amazons. 

When news of her approach was brought to Radigund 
she was filled with courage and glee instead of being 
dismayed. Glad to hear of fighting, of which she had 
now had none for a long time, she bade them open the 
gates boldly, so that she might see the face of her new 
foe ; but when they told her of the Iron Man who had 
lately slain her people, she bade them hold them shut. 

So there outside the gate, as seemed best, her 
pavilion was pitched, in which brave Britomart rested 
herself, while Talus watched at her door all night. 
All night, likewise, those of the town, in terror, kept 
good watch and ward upon their wall. 

The next morning, as soon as it was dawn, the war- 
like Amazon peeped out of her bower, and caused 
a shrill trumpet to sound to warn her foe to hasten 
to the battle. Britomart, who had long been awake 

33 1 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

and arrayed for contest, immediately stepped haughtily 
from the pavilion, ready for the fight, and on the other 
side her foe soon appeared. 

But before they lifted hand, Radigund began to 
propound the strict conditions with which she always 
fettered her foes — that Britomart should serve her as 
she had bound the rest to do. At this, Britomart 
frowned sternly, in disdain of such indignity, and would 
no longer parley, but bade them sound the advance, 
for she would be tied by no other terms than those 
prescribed by the laws of chivalry. 

The trumpets sounded, and they rushed together 
with greedy rage, smiting with their falchions ; neither 
sought to shun the other's stroke, but both savagely 
hacked and hewed, furious as a tiger and a lioness 
fighting over the same prey. So long they fought that 
all the grassy floor was trampled with blood. At last 
Radigund, having espied some near advantage, let drive 
at Britomart with all her might, thus taunting her with 
savage scorn — 

" Bear this token to the man whom you love so 
dearly, and tell him you gave your life for his sake ! " 

The cruel stroke glanced on Britomart's shoulder 
plate, and bit to the bone, so that she could hardly 
hold up her shield for the smart of it. Yet she soon 
avenged it, for the furious pain gave her fresh force, 
and she smote Radigund so rudely on the helmet that 
it pierced to the very brain, and felled her to the ground, 
where with one stroke Britomart killed her. 

When Radigund's warrior band saw this dreadful 
sight they all fled into the town, and left Britomart 

33^ 




Cbence fottb unto tbe 3-eole tbefi bet btougbt; 



Co wbieb tbc 3-oote, as it were inclining, 
1bcr wanO OiO more wttb amiable loofce, 
1S\2 outward sbew bet inward sense Designing/* 



Radigund and Britomart 

sole victor. But they could not retreat so fast but 
that Talus could overtake the foremost. Pressing 
through the mob to the gate, he entered in with them, 
and then began a piteous slaughter ; for all who came 
within reach of his iron flail were soon beyond the skill 
of any doctor. 

Then the noble Conqueror herself came in, and 
though she had sworn a vow of revenge, yet when she 
saw the heaps of dead bodies slain by Talus, her heart 
was torn with pity, and she bade him slack his fury. 
Having thus stayed the massacre, she inquired for the 
iron prison where her love lay captive. Breaking it open 
with indignant rage, she entered, and went all over 
it ; when she saw the strange and horrible sight of the 
men dressed up in womanish garb, her heart groaned with 
compassion for such unmanly and disgraceful misery. 

When at last she came to her own Knight, whom 
the like disguise had no less disfigured, abashed with 
shame she turned aside her head, and then with 
pity and tender words she tried to comfort him. 
She caused the unsightly garments to be immediately 
taken off, and in their stead sought for other raiment, 
of which there was great store, as well as bright armour 
reft from many a noble knight whom the proud Amazon 
had subdued. When Sir Artegall was clad anew in 
this apparel Britomart's spirits revived, and she re- 
joiced in his gallant appearance. 

They remained for awhile in the city of Queen 
Radigund, so that Sir Artegall might recover his 
strength, and Britomart be healed of her wounds. 
During this time Britomart reigned as a Princess, and 

33S 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

changed all the order of government. The women 
were deposed from the rule which they had usurped, 
and true justice was dealt them, so that, worshipping 
Britomart as a goddess, they all admired her wisdom 
and listened to her teaching. All those knights who 
had long been hidden in captivity, she freed from 
their thraldom, and made magistrates of the city, 
giving them great wealth and authority. And in 
order that they should always remain faithful, she 
made them swear fealty to Artegall. 

As the latter Knight was now fully recovered, he 
proposed to proceed upon the first adventure which 
had called him forth, the release of the Lady Irene 
from the villain Grantorto. Very sad and sorrowful 
was Britomart at his departure, yet wisely moderated 
her own grief, seeing that his honour, which she put 
above all things, was much concerned in carrying out 
that adventure. For a little while after he had gone 
she remained there in the city, but finding her misery 
increase with his absence, and hoping that change of 
air and place would somewhat ease her sorrow, she too 
departed, to appease her anguish in travel. 



The Adventure of the Damsel, the Two Knights, 
and the Sultan's Horses 

As Sir Artegall rode forth on his way, accompanied 
only by Talus, he saw far off a damsel on a palfrey 
flying fast in terror before two knights, who pursued 
her. These in turn were themselves pursued by another 

336 



The Damsel and the Knights 

knight, who pricked after them with all his might, his 
spear ready levelled. At length the latter overtook the 
hindmost of the two knights, and compelled him to 
turn and face him ; but the other still pursued the maid, 
who flew as fast in front of him, and never stopped till 
she saw Sir Artegall. To him she ran at once, in glad 
haste, hoping to get help against her enemy ; and Arte- 
gall, seeing her approach, went forward to relieve her 
fear, and to prevent her foe from hurting her. 

But the pursuing knight, greedy as a hound after 
his prev, still continued his course, thinking to over- 
throw Sir Artegall with his spear. Thus alike sternly 
resolved they met fiercely. But Artegall was the 
stronger, and better skilled in tilt and tournament, 
and he hurled the other out of his saddle quite two 
spears' lengths. The Pagan knight, unluckily for 
himself, pitched on his head, broke his neck, and was 
killed on the spot. 

Meanwhile the third Knight had defeated and slain 
the second of the villains, and leaving him there dead, 
he ran on to overtake his companion. Instead of him 
he found Sir Artegall, and not knowing he was also on 
the side of the damsel, he ran at him without thinking ; 
and the latter, seeing him approach so fiercely, made 
against him again. So they met, and struck stronglv, 
and broke their spears ; yet neither was dismounted, 
though they both shook to and fro, and tottered like 
two towers quaking in a tempest. 

But when they had recovered their senses they drew 
their swords, meaning to make amends with them where 
their spears had failed. When the damsel, who had 

337 y 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

seen the end of both her foes, now beheld her friends 
beginning for her sake a more fearful fray, she ran to 
them in haste, crying to them to stay their cruel hands 
until they both heard what she had to say to them. 

" Ah, gentle Knights," she cried, " why do you thus 
unwisely wreak on yourselves another's wrong ? I am 
the injured one whom both of you have aided. Wit- 
ness the two Pagan knights whom ye may see dead on 
the ground ! What more revenge, therefore, do you 
desire ? If more, then I am she who was the root of 
all. End your revenge on me." 

When they heard her speak thus, and saw that their 
foes were indeed dead, they immediately stayed their 
hands, and lifted up their visors to look at each other ; 
and then Sir Artegall saw that his adversary was none 
other than Prince Arthur himself. 

Filled with admiration for his gallant and noble 
bearing, and touched with the deepest affection, he 
drew near, and prayed pardon for having unknowingly 
wronged him, offering to yield himself to the Prince for 
ever, or to any penance he chose to inflict. 

To whom the Prince replied — 

" Truly, I need more to crave the same pardon, for 
having been so misled by error as to mistake you for 
the dead man. But since it pleases you that both our 
faults shall be forgotten, amends can soon be made, 
since neither is much damaged thereby." 

Thus their perfect friendship was easily restored, and 
they embraced lovingly, each swearing faithfully on his 
blade never thenceforth to nourish enmity against the 
other, but always mutually to maintain each other's cause. 

338 



The Damsel and the Knights 

Then they called the damsel, and asked her who 
were the two foes from whom she was flying so fast, 
and who she was herself, and what was the reason why 
she was pursued by them. 

The maiden, whose name was Samient, replied that 
she was in the service of a great and mighty queen 
called Mercilla, a Princess of great power and majesty. 
She was known above all for her bounty and sovereign 
grace, with which she supported her royal crown, and 
strongly beat down the malice of her foes, who envied 
her, and fretted, and frowned at her happiness. In 
spite of them she grew greater and greater, and even 
to her foes her mercies increased. 

Amongst the many who maligned her was a mighty 
man dwelling near, who, with cruel spite and hatred, 
did all in his power to undermine her crown and dignity. 
Her good knights, of whom she had as brave a band 
as any Princess on earth, he either destroyed, if they 
stood against him, or else tried to bribe slyly to take 
his part. And not content with this, he was always 
trying by treacherous plots to kill Queen Mercilla. 

" He is provoked to all this tyranny, they say, by 
his bad wife, Adicia," continued Samient, "who counsels 
him, because of his strength, to break all bonds of law 
and rule of right ; for she professes herself a mortal 
foe to justice, and always fights against it, working 
deadly woe to all who love it, and making her knights 
and people do so likewise. 

" My liege lady, seeing this, thought it best to deal 
with Adicia in a friendly fashion, in order to put an 
end to strife, and to establish rest both for herself and 

339 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

her people. She therefore sent me on a message to 
treat with her, by way of negotiation, as to some final 
peace and fair arrangement, which might be concluded 
by mutual consent. 

" At all times it is customary to afford safe passage 
to messengers who come on a just cause, but this proud 
dame, disdaining all such rules, not only burst into 
bitter words, reviling and railing at me as she chose, 
but actually thrust me like a dog out of doors, miscall- 
ing me by many a bitter name, who never did any ill 
to her. Then lastly she sent those two knights after 
me to work me further mischief, but thanks to Heaven 
and your valour, they have paid the price of their own 
folly." 

So said the damsel, and showed herself most grate- 
ful to Prince Arthur and Sir Artegall for their aid. 

The Knights, having heard of all the wrongs done 
by the proud dame Adicia, were very indignant, and 
eagerly desired to punish her and her husband, the 
Sultan. But thinking to carry out their design more 
easily by a counterfeit disguise, they arranged this plot : 
first, that Sir Artegall should array himself like one of 
the two dead knights, then that he should convey the 
damsel Samient as his prize to the Sultan's court, to 
present her to the scornful lady, who had sent for her. 

This was accordingly done. 

Directly the Sultan's wife saw them, as she lay look- 
ing out of the window, she thought it was the Pagan 
knight with her prey, and sent a page to direct him 
where to go. Taking them to the appointed place, the 
page offered his service to disarm the Knight, but Sir 

340 



The Sultan's Horses 

Artegall refused to take off his armour, fearing to be 
discovered. 

Soon after, Prince Arthur arrived, and sent a bold 
defiance to the Sultan, requiring of him the damsel 
whom he held as a wrongful prisoner. The Sultan, 
filled with fury, swearing and cursing, commanded his 
armour to be brought at once, and mounted straight 
upon a high chariot, dreadfully armed with iron wheels 
and hooks, and drawn by cruel steeds, whom he fed 
with the flesh of slaughtered men. 

Thus he came forth, clad in a coat of mail, all red 
with rust. The Prince waited ready for him in glister- 
ing armour, right goodly to see, that shone like the 
sun. By the stirrup Talus attended, playing his page's 
part, as his master had directed. 

So they went forth to battle, both alike fierce, 
but with different motives. For the proud and pre- 
sumptuous Sultan, with insolent bearing, sought only 
slaughter and revenge ; but the brave Prince fought 
for right and honour against lawless tyranny, on behalf 
of wronged weakness, trusting more to the truth of 
his cause than in his own strength. 

The Sultan in his folly thought either to hew the 
Prince in pieces with his sharp wheels, or to bear 
him down under his fierce horses' feet, and trample 
him in the dust. But the bold Knight, well spying that 
peril if he came too near the chariot, kept out of the way 
of the flying horses. Yet as he passed by, the Pagan 
threw a dart with such force that, had he not shunned 
it needfully, it would have transfixed either himself or 
his horse. Often Prince Arthur came near, hoping to 

341 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

aim some stroke at him, but the Sultan was mounted so 
high in his chariot, and his wing-footed coursers bore 
him so fast away, that before the Prince could advance 




his spear, he was past and gone ; yet still he followed 
him everywhere, and in turn was followed by him. 

Again the Pagan threwanother dart, which, guided by 
some bad spirit, glided through Prince Arthur's cuirass, 
and made a grisly wound in his side. Furious as a raging 

342 



The Sultan's Horses 

lion, the Prince sought to get at his foe ; but whenever he 
approached, the chariot wheels whirled round him, and 
made him fly back again as fast ; and the Sultan's horses, 
like hungry hounds hunting after game, so cruelly 
chased and pursued him that his own good steed, al- 
though renowned for courage and hardy race, dared not 
endure the sight of them, but fled from place to place. 

Thus for a long while they rushed to and fro, seek- 
ing in every way to find some opening for attack ; but 
the Prince could never get near enough for one sure 
stroke. Then at last from his victorious shield he 
drew the veil which hid its magic light, and coming 
full before the horses as they pressed upon him, flashed 
it in their eyes. 

Like the lightning which burns the gazer, so did 
the sight of the shield dismay their senses, so that they 
turned back upon themselves and ran away with their 
driver. Nor could the Sultan stay their flight with 
reins or accustomed rule, as he well knew how ; they 
did not fear him in the least — their only fear was that 
from which they fled dismayed, like terrified deer. 
Fast as their feet could bear them they flew over hill 
and dale. In vain the Pagan cursed and swore and 
railed, and dragged with both hands at the reins ; he 
called and spoke to them, but nothing availed. They 
heard him not, they forgot his training, they went 
which way they chose, heedless of their guide. Through 
woods and rocks and mountains they drew the iron 
chariot, and the wheels tore the Sultan, and tossed him 
here and there from side to side, crying in vain to those 
who would not hear his crying. 

343 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

And all the while Prince Arthur pursued closely 
behind, but could find no means of smiting his foe. 

At last the horses overthrew the chariot, which was 
turned topsy-turvy, and the iron hooks and sharp knives 
caught hold of the Sultan and tore him all to rags. 
Nothing was left of him but some bits of his battered 
and broken shield and armour. These Prince Arthur 
gathered up and took with him that they might remain 
as a token, whenever the tale was told, of how worthily 
that day, by Heaven's decree, justice had avenged her- 
self of wrong, so that all men might take warning by 
the example. 

Therefore, on a tree in front of the tyrant's door, 
he caused them to be hung in the sight of all men, to 
be a memorial for ever. 

When the Lady Adicia from the castle height be- 
held them she was appalled, but instead of being over- 
come with fright, as another woman might have been, 
she immediately began to devise how to be revenged. 

Knife in hand, she ran down, vowing to wreak her 
vengeance on the maiden messenger whom she had 
ordered to be kept prisoner by Sir Artegall, mistaking 
him for her own knight ; and coming into her presence 
she ran at her with all her might. But Artegall, being 
aware thereof, stayed her cruel hand before it reached 
Samient, and caught the weapon from her. There- 
upon, like one distracted, she rushed forth, wherever 
her rage bore her, frantic with passion. Breaking out 
at a postern door, she ran into the wild wood, where, it 
is said, on account of her malice and cruelty she was 
transformed into a tiger. 

344 



At the Den of Deceit 



The Adventure at the Den of Deceit 

After the defeat of the Sultan and the flight of his 
wicked wife, Prince Arthur and Sir Artegall wished 
to hand over the place and all its wealth to Samient to 
hold for her lady, while they departed on their quest ; 
but the maiden begged them so earnestly to go with 
her to see Queen Mercilla that at last they consented. 

On the way she told them of a strange thing near 
at hand — to wit, a wicked villain who dwelt in a rock 
not far off, and who robbed all the country round, and 
took the pillage home. In this his own wily wit, and 
also the security of his dwelling-place, both of which 
were unassailable, were of great assistance. For he was 
so crafty both to invent and execute, so light of hand 
and nimble of foot, so smooth of tongue and subtle in 
his tale, that any one looking at him might well be 
taken in. Therefore he was called Deceit. 

He was well known for his achievements, and by his 
tricks had brought many to ruin. The rock, also, where 
he dwelt was wondrous strong, and hewn a dreadful 
depth far under ground ; within it was full of winding 
and hidden passages, so that no one could find his 
way back who once went amiss. 

The Knights, hearing this, longed to see the villain 
where he lurked, and bade Samient guide them to the 
place. As they came near, they agreed that the best 
plan would be for the damsel to go on in front, and sit 
alone near the den, wailing and raising a pitiful uproar. 
When the wretch issued forth, hoping to find some 

345 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

spoil, they, lying in wait, would closely ensnare him 
before he could retreat to his den, and thus they hoped 
to foil him easily. 

Samient immediately did as she was directed, and 
the noise of her weeping speedily brought forth the 
villain, as they had intended. 

He was as dreadful a creature as ever walked on 
earth, with hollow, deeply set eyes, and long shaggy locks 
straggling down his shoulders. He wore strange gar- 
ments all in rags and tatters, and in his hand he held a 
huge long staff, the top of which was armed with many 
iron hooks, to catch hold of everything that came within 
reach of his clutches, and he kept casting looks around 
in all directions. At his back he bore a great wide net, 
with which he seldom fished in the water, but which he 
used to fish for silly folk on the dry shore, and in fair 
weather he caught many. 

When Samient saw close beside her such an ugly 
creature she was really frightened, and now in earnest 
cried aloud for help. But when the villain saw her so 
afraid, he tried guilefully to persuade her to banish fear ; 
smiling sardonically on her, he diverted her mind by 
talking pleasantly and showing her some amusing tricks, 
for he was an adept at jugglery and conjuring feats. 
Whilst her attention was engaged, he suddenly threw his 
net over her like a puff of wind, and snatching her up 
before she was well aware, ran with her to his cave. Rut 
when he came near and saw the armed Knights stopping 
his passage, he flung down his burden and fled fast away. 

Sir Artegall pursued him, while Prince Arthur still 
kept guard at the entrance of the den. Up to the rock 

346 




" £be 2)am3ell straigbt went, as sbe was oirectefc, 
XHnto tbe rocfce ; ano tbere upon tbe sogle 
(Ban weepe ano wagle, as if great grief bao ber attecteo. 



Zhc cr$ wbereof entering tbe bollow cave 
Bftsoones brougbt fortb tbe villaine, as tbeg ment" 



At the Den of Deceit 

ran Deceit, like a wild goat leaping from hill to hill, 
and dancing on the very edge of the craggy cliffs. It 
was useless for the armed Knight to think of follow- 
ing him, but he sent his Iron Man after him, for Talus 
was swift in chase. 

Then wherever Deceit went Talus pursued him, 
so that he soon forced him to forsake the heights and 
descend to the low ground. Now Deceit tried a new 
plan : he suddenly changed his form. First he turned 
himself into a fox, but Talus still hunted him as a fox; 
then he transformed himself to a bush, but Talus beat 
the bush till at last it changed into a bird, and passed 
from him, flying from tree to tree, and from reed to 
reed ; but Talus threw stones at the bird, so that 
presently it changed itself into a stone, and dropped to 
the ground ; whereupon Talus took the stone up in his 
hand and brought it to the Knights, and gave it to Sir 
Artegall, warning him to hold it fast for fear of tricks. 
While the Knight seized it in a tight grip, the stone 
went unawares into a hedgehog, and pricked him, so 
that he threw it away ; then it began to run off quickly, 
returning to Deceit's own shape ; but Talus soon over- 
took him and brought him back. 

But when he would have changed himself into a 
serpent, Talus drove at him with his iron flail, and 
thrashed him so that he died. So that was the end of 
Deceit the self-deceiver. 

Leaving his dead body where it fell, the two Knights 
went on with the maiden to see her Lady, as they had 
agreed. Presently they beheld a stately palace, mounted 
high with terraces and towers, and all the tops were glis- 

349 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

tering with gold, which seemed to outshine the sky, and 
with their brightness dazzled the eyes of strangers. 
There alighting, they were directed in by Samient, and 
shown all that was to be seen. The magnificent porch 
stood open wide to all men, day and night ; yet it was 
well guarded by a man of great strength, like a giant, 
who sat there to keep out guile and malice and spite, 
which often . under a feigned semblance works much 
mischief in Princes' courts. His name was Awe. 

Passing by him they went up the hall, which was a 
wide large room, filled with people, making a great din. 
In the thickest of the press the marshal of the hall, 
whose name was Order, came to them, and command- 
ing peace, guided them through the throng. All ceased 
their clamour to gaze at the Knights, half terrified at 
their shining armour, which was a strange sight to them ; 
for they never saw such array there, nor was the name 
of war ever spoken, but all was joyous peace, and quiet- 
ness, and just government. 

So by degrees they were guided into the presence of 
the Queen. She sat high up, on a throne of bright and 
shining gold, adorned with priceless gems. All over 
her was spread a canopy of state, glittering and gleam- 
ing like a cloud of gold and silver, upheld by the rain- 
bow-coloured wings of little cherubs. Thus she sat in 
sovereign majesty, holding a sceptre in her royal hand, 
the sacred pledge of peace and clemency. At her feet 
lay her sword, the bright steel brand rusted from long 
rest, yet when foes forced it, or friends sought aid, 
she could draw it sternly to dismay the world. Round 
about her sat a bevy of fair maidens, clad in white, 

35° 



At the Den of Deceit 

whilst underneath her feet lay a great huge lion, like a 
captive thrall, bound with a strong iron chain and collar. 

Now at the instant when the two stranger Knights 
came into the presence of the Queen, she was holding, 
as it happened, a great and important trial. Having 
acknowledged their obeisance with royal courtesy, she 
gave orders to proceed with the trial ; and wishing that 
the Knights should see and understand all that was 
going on, she bade them both mount up to her stately 
throne, and placed one on each side of her. 

Then there was brought forward as prisoner a lady 
of great beauty and high position, but who had blotted 
all her honour and titles of nobility by her wicked 
behaviour. This was no other than the false Duessa, 
who had wrought so much mischief by her malice and 
cunning. Seeing the piteous plight in which she now 
stood, Prince Arthur's tender heart was touched with 
compassion ; but when he heard the long roll of her 
crimes read forth, he could no longer wish that she 
should escape punishment. Sir Artegall, for the sake 
of justice, was against her, and she was judged guilty 
by all. Then they called loudly to the Queen to pro- 
nounce sentence. Mercilla was deeply moved at the 
sight of Duessa's wretched plight, and even then would 
gladly have pardoned her ; but in order to save her land 
from further evil, which would grow if not checked, 
she was obliged to keep to the stern law of justice. 
Melting to tears, she suddenly left her throne, unable 
to speak the words that doomed the prisoner to death ; 
and she never ceased to lament with bitter remorse the 
fate which the wretched Duessa had brought on herself. 

3.0 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 



The Adventure of the Tyrant Grantorto 

While Prince Arthur and Sir Artegall were staying 
at the court of Queen Mercilla, there came one day 
two noble youths to implore aid for their mother, for 
their father was dead. A cruel tyrant, the son of a 
giant, had ravaged all her land, setting up an idol of 
his own, and giving her dear children one by one to 
be devoured by a horrible monster. Prince Arthur, 
seeing that none of the other knights were eager for 
this adventure, boldly stepped forward, and begged the 
Queen to let him undertake it. She gladly granted 
permission, and the following morning he started on 
his journey. In due course he reached the land which 
had been laid waste, fought with the tyrant, and over- 
came him, slew the vile monster, and restored the lady 
to her rightful possessions. 

Sir Artegall, meanwhile, had started again on his 
first quest, which was to set free the Lady Irene and 
punish Grantorto. He fared forward through many 
perils, with Talus, as usual, his only attendant, till he 
came at length near the appointed place. 

There, as he travelled, he met an old and solitary 
wayfarer, whom he knew at once as the attendant of 
Irene, when she came in sorrow to the court of the 
Faerie Queene to entreat protection. Saluting him by 
name, Sir Artegall inquired for news of his Lady, whether 
she were still alive, and if so why he had left her. To 
whom the aged knight replied that she lived and was 
well, but had been seized by treachery and imprisoned 

3S 2 



The Tyrant Grantorto 

by the tyrant Grantorto, who had often sought her life. 
And now he had fixed a day by which, if no champion 
appeared to do battle for her and prove her innocent 
of those crimes of which she was accused, she should 
surely surfer death. 

Sir Artegall was much cast down to hear these sad 
tidings, and sorely grieved that it was owing to his own 
long delay in captivity that the misfortune had happened. 

"Tell me, Sir Sergis," he said, "how long a space 
hath he lent her to provide a champion ? " 

"Ten days he has granted as a favour, ' was the 
answer ; " for he knows well that before that date no 
one can have tidings to help her. For all the shores, 
far and wide, which border on the s^a, he guards night 
and day, so that no one could land without an army. 
Already he considers her as good as dead." 

" Now turn again," said Sir Artegall ; " for if I live 
till those ten days are ended, be assured, Sir Knight, 
she shall have aid, though I spend my life for her." 

So he went back at once with Sir Sergis. 

Then as they rode together they saw in front of 
them a confused crowd of people, rudely chasing to 
and fro a hapless Knight, who was in much danger 
from their rough handling. Some distance away, stand- 
ing helpless in the midst of the mob, they spied a lady, 
crying and holding up her hands to him for aid. Sir 
Artegall and Talus put to flight the rascally rout who 
were assailing the Knight, and then inquired of him the 
cause of his misadventure. He replied that his name 
was Burbon, and that he had been well known and far 
renowned till mischief had fallen on him and tarnished 

35? 7- 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

his former fame. The lady was his own love, whom 
the tyrant Grantorto had tried to bribe from him with 
rich gifts and deceitful words, and now he had sent 
a troop of villains to snatch her away by open force. 
Burbon had for a long time vainly tried to rescue her, 
but was overcome by the multitude of his assailants. 

" But why have you forsaken your own good 
shield?" said Artegall. "This is the greatest shame 
and deepest scorn that can happen to any knight, to 
lose the badge that should display his deeds." 

"That I will explain to you, lest you blame me 
for it, and think it was done willingly, whereas it was a 
matter of necessity," said Sir Burbon, blushing half for 
shame. " It is true that I was at first dubbed knight 
by a good Knight — the Knight of the Red Cross, who, 
when he gave me arms to fight in battle, gave me a 
shield on which he traced his dear Redeemer's badge. 
That same I bore for a long time, and with it fought 
many battles, without wound or loss. With it I 
appalled Grantorto himself, and oftentimes made him 
fall in field before me. But because many envied that 
shield, and cruel foes greatly increased, to stop all strife 
and troublous enmity I laid aside the battered scutcheon, 
and have lately gone without it, hoping thereby to 
obtain my Lady ; nevertheless I cannot have her, for 
she is still detained from me by force, and is per- 
verted from truth by bribery." 

"Truly, Sir Knight," said Artegall, "it is a hard 
case of which you complain, yet not so hard as to 
abandon that which contains the blazon of your honour 
— that is, your warlike shield. All peril and all pain 

354 



The Tyrant Grantorto 

should be accounted less than loss of fame. Die rather 
than do aught that yields dishonour." 

" Not so," quoth Sir Burbon, " for when time serves 
I may again resume my former shield. To temporise 
is not to swerve from truth, when advantage or neces- 
sity compels it." 

"Fie on such forgery!" said Artegall. "Under 
one hood to hide two faces ! Knights should be true, 
and truth is one in all. Down with all dissembling ! " 

" Yet help me now for courtesy against these 
peasants who have oppressed me," said Burbon, "so 
that my lady may be freed from their hands." 

Sir Artegall, although he blamed his wavering 
mind, agreed to aid him, and buckling himself at once 
to the fight, with the help of Talus and his iron flail 
soon dispersed the rabble. 

But when they came to where the lady now stood 
alone, and Burbon ran forward to embrace her, she 
started back disdainfully, and would listen to nothing 
he said. The Knights rebuked her for being so fickle 
and wayward, and Sir Artegall's grave words so abashed 
her, that she hung down her head for shame, and stood 
speechless. Seeing this, Burbon made a second attempt, 
and she allowed him to place her on his steed without 
resistance. So he carried her off, seemingly neither 
well nor ill pleased. 

Then Sir Artegall took his way to the sea-shore, 
to see if he could find any shipping to carry him over 
to the savage island where Grantorto held the Lady 
Irene captive. As good fortune fell, when they came 
to the coast they found a ship all ready to put to sea. 

355 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

Wind and weather served them so well that in one 
day they reached the island, where they found great 
hosts of men in order of battle ready to repel them, who 
held possession of the ground and forbade them to land. 
Nevertheless they would not refrain from landing, but 
as they drew near, Talus jumped into the sea, and wading 
through the waves, gained the shore, and chased the 
enemy away. Then Artegall and the old Knight landed, 
and marched forward to a town which was in sight. 

By this time those who first fled in fear had brought 
tidings to the tyrant, who summoned all his forces in 
alarm, and marched out to encounter the enemy. He had 
not gone far when he met them ; he charged with all 
his might, but Talus set upon the tyrant's troops and 
bruised and battered them so pitilessly, that he killed 
many. No one was able to withstand him ; he over- 
threw them, man and horse, so that they lay scattered 
all over the land, as thick as seed after the sower. 

Then Sir Artegall, seeing his rage, bade him to 
stop, and made a sign of truce. Calling a herald, he 
sent him to the tyrant to tell him that he did not come 
thither for the sake of such slaughter, but to try the 
right of Irene's cause with him in single fight. When 
Grantorto heard this message, right glad was he thus to 
stop the slaughter, and he appointed the next morrow 
for the combat betwixt them twain. 

The following morning was the dismal day ap- 
pointed for Irene's death. The sorrowful maiden, 
to whom none had borne tidings of the arrival of 
Artegall to set her free, looked up with sad eyes and a 
heavy heart, believing her last hour to be near. Rising, 

356 



The Tyrant Grantorto 

she dressed herself in squalid garments fit for such a 
day, and was brought forth to receive her doom. 

But when she came to the place, and found there 
Sir Artegall in battle array, waiting for the foe, her heart 
was cheered, and it lent new life to her in the midst of 
deadly fear. Like a withered rose, dying of drought, 
which glows with fresh grace when a few drops of rain 
fall on her dainty face, so was Irene's countenance when 
she saw Sir Artegall in that array waiting for the tyrant. 

At length, with proud and presumptuous bear- 
ing, Grantorto came into the field. He was armed in 
a coat of iron plate, and wore on his head a steel cap, 
rusty brown in colour, but sure and strong. He bore in 
his hand a great pole-axe, with which he was accustomed 
to fight, the blade of which was iron-studded, but not 
long. He was huge and hideous in stature, like a giant 
in height, surpassing most men in strength, and had 
moreover great skill in single fight. His face was ugly, 
and his expression stern enough to frighten one with the 
very sight of it ; and when he grinned, it could scarcely 
be discerned whether he were a man or a monster. 

As soon as he appeared within the lists he surveyed 
Artegall with a dreadful look, as if he would have 
daunted him with fear, and grinning in a grisly fashion 
flourished his deadly weapon. But the Knight of the 
Faerie Queene, who had often seen such a sight, was 
not in the least quelled by his ghastly countenance, but 
began straight to buckle himself to the fight, and cast 
his shield in front of him to be in readiness. 

The trumpets sounded, and they rushed together 
with terrific force, each dealing huge and dangerous 

357 



The Adventures of Sir Artegall 

strokes. But the tyrant thundered his blows with 
such violence that they rent their way through the 
iron walls of his enemy's armour. Artegall, seeing 
this, took wary heed to shun them, and often stooped 
his head to shield himself; but Grantorto wielded his 
iron axe so nimbly that he gave him many wounds. 
But lifting his arm to smite him mortally, the Knight 
spied his advantage, and slipping underneath, struck 
him right in the flank. Yet the tyrant's blow, as he 
had intended, kept on its course, and fell with such 
monstrous weight that it seemed as if nothing could 
protect Sir Artegall from death. But betwixt him 
and the blow he cast his shieid, in which the pole-axe 
buried itself so deep that Grantorto could in no way 
wrest it back again. He tugged and strove, and 
dragged the Knight all about the place, but neverthe- 
less he could not free the axe from the shield. 

Artegall, perceiving this, let go of his shield, and 
attacking the tyrant with his sword Crysaor, swiftly 
cut off his head. 

When the people round about saw this they all 
shouted for joy at his success, glad to be freed from the 
tyrant who had so long oppressed them. Joyously run- 
ning to the fair Lady Irene, they fell at her feet, doing 
homage to her as their true liege and princess, while 
the glorv of her champion was sounded everywhere. 

Then Sir Artegall led Irene with fitting majesty to 
the palace where the kings reigned, and established her 
peaceably therein, and restored her kingdom again to 
her. And all such persons as had helped the tyrant 
with open or secret aid he punished severely, so that in 

358 



The Tyrant Grantorto 

a very short space not one was left who would have 
dared to disobey her. During the time he remained 
there all his study was how to deal true justice, and day 




and night he gave his anxious thoughts as to how he 
might reform the government. 

Thus, having freed Irene from distress, he took his 
leave, and left her sorrowing at his departure. 

359 




Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy 



The Quest of the Blatant Beast 

ONE of the best loved knights at the court of the 
Faerie Queene was Sir Calidore, for even there, 
where courteous knights and ladies most did throng, 
not one was more renowned for courtesy than Calidore. 
Gentleness of spirit and winning manners were natural 
to him, and added to these, his gallant bearing and 
gracious speech stole all men's hearts. Moreover, he 
was strong and tall, and well proved in battle, so that 
he had won much glory, and his fame had spread 
afar. Not a knight or lady at the Court but loved 
him dearly; and he was worthy of their affection, for 
he hated falsehood and base flattery, and loved simple 
truth and steadfast honesty. 

360 



The Quest of the Blatant Beast 

But like all Queen Gloriana's other knights, Sir 
Calidore was not allowed to spend his days in slothful 
ease at the court. He had his task to perform, and the 
adventure appointed to him was a hard and perilous one. 

As he travelled on his way, it happened by chance 
that he met Sir Artegall, who was returning half sadly 
from the conquest he had lately made. They knew 
each other at once, and Sir Calidore was the first to 
speak. 

" Hail, noblest Knight of all that live and breathe ! " 
he cried. " Now tell me, if it please you, of the good 
success you have had in your late enterprise." 

Then Sir Artegall told him the whole story of his 
exploits from beginning to end. 

" Happy man to have worthily achieved so hard a 
quest ! " said Calidore, when he had finished. " It will 
make you renowned for evermore. But where you have 
ended I now begin to tread an endless track, without 
guide or direction how to enter in or issue forth — in 
untried ways, in strange perils, and in long and weary 
labour. And even although good fortune may befall 
me, it will be unseen of any one." 

" What is that quest which calls you now into 
such peril ? " asked Sir Artegall. 

" I pursue the Blatant Beast," said Sir Calidore, 
" and incessantly chase him through the world until 
I overtake and subdue him. I do not know how or 
in what place to find him, yet still I fare forward." 

" What is that Blatant Beast ? " asked Artegall. 

" It is a hideous monster of evil race, born and 
brought up in dark and noisome places, whence he 

361 



Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy 

issues forth to be the plague and scourge of wretched 
men. He has oftentimes annoyed good knight and 
true lady, and destroyed many, for with his venomous 
nature and vile tongue he wounds sorely, and bites, 
and cruelly torments." 

" Then, since I left the savage island, I have seen 
such a beast," said Artegall. " He seemed to have a 
thousand tongues, all agreeing in spite and malice, 
with which he barked and bayed at me, as if he would 
have devoured me on the spot. He was set on by 
two hideous old hags, Envy and Detraction. But I, 
knowing myself safe from peril, paid no regard to his 
malice nor his power, whereupon he poured forth his 
wicked poison the more." 

" That surely is the beast which I pursue," said 
Calidore. " I am right glad to have these tidings of 
him, having had none before in all my weary travels. 
Now your words give me some hope." 

"God speed you!" said Sir Artegall, "and keep 
you from the dread danger, for you have much to 
contend against." 

So they took a kindly leave of each other, and 
parted on their several ways. 

Sir Calidore had not travelled far when he came 
upon a comely Squire, bound hand and foot to a tree, 
who seeing him in the distance called to him for aid. 
The Knight at once set him free, and then asked him 
what mishap had brought him into such disgrace. 
The Squire replied it was occasioned not by his fault, 
but through his misfortune. 

" Not far from here, on yonder rocky hill," he 
362 




" Sir Calioore tbence travelleo not long, 
IKHben as b£ cbaunce a comely Squire be fount), 
Gbat tborougb some more migbtE enemies wrong 
JBotb bant) ant) foote unto a tree was bouno." 



The Quest of the Blatant Beast 

said, " stands a strong Castle, where a bad and hateful 
custom is kept up. For whenever any knight or lady 
comes along that way (and they must needs go by, 
for it is the pass through the rocks), they shave away 
the lady's locks and the knight's beard to pay toll for 
the passage." 

"As shameful a custom as ever I heard of, and it 
shall be put a stop to ! " said Sir Calidore. " But for 
what cause was it first set on foot ? " 

"The lady who owns the castle is called Briana, 
and no prouder one lives," replied the Squire. " For 
a long time she has dearly loved a doughty Knight, 
and sought to win his love by all the means in her 
power. Crudor, for that is his name, in his scornful 
and selfish vanity refuses to return her affection until 
she has made for him a mantle, lined with the beards 
of knights and the locks of JadieSc To provide this, 
she has prepared this castle, and appointed a Seneschal, 
called Maleffort, a man of great strength, who executes 
her wicked will with worse malice. 

" As I came along to-day with a fair damsel, my 
dear love, he set upon us. Unable to withstand him, 
we both fled, and first capturing me he bound me to 
this tree till his return, and then went in pursuit of 
hen Nor do I know whether he has yet found her." 

While they were speaking they heard a piteous 
shriek, and looking in the direction whence the cry 
came, they saw the churl dragging the maiden along 
by her yellow hair. When Calidore beheld the shame- 
ful sight he immediately went in pursuit, and com- 
manded the villain to release his prey. Hearing his 

3 6 5 



Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy 

voice, Maleffort turned, and running towards him. 
more enraged than terrified, said tauntingly — 

" Are you the wretch who defies me ? And will 
you give your beard for this maid, whose part you 
take ? Yet it shall not free her locks from ransom." 

With that he flew fiercely at him and laid on the 
most hideous strokes. But Calidore, who was well 
skilled in fight, let his adversary exhaust his strength, 
and then attacked him with such fury that the churl's 
heart failed him, and he took flight to the Castle, where 
his hope of refuge remained. But just as the warders 
on the Castle wall opened the gates to receive him, 
Calidore overtook him in the porch, and killed him, 
so that his dead body fell down inside the door. Then 
Calidore entered in and slew the porter. 

The rest of the Castle inmates flocked round him, 
but he swept them all aside. Passing into the hall 
he was met by the Lady Briana herself, who bitterly 
upbraided him for what she termed his unknightly 
conduct in slaying her servants. 

" Not unto me the shame, but award it to the 
shameful doer," replied the Knight. " It is no blame 
to punish those who deserve it. Those who break the 
bonds of civility and make wicked customs, those are 
they who defame both noble arms and gentle courtesy. 
There is no greater disgrace to man than inhumanity. 
Then for dread of disgrace forego this evil custom which 
you here keep up, and show instead kindly courtesy to 
all who pass. This will gain you more glory than that 
man's love which you thus seek to obtain." 

But the Ladv Briana only replied to Sir Calidore with 

3 66 



The Quest of the Blatant Beast 

the most scornful insolence, and despatching a hasty 
message to Crudor, bade him come to her rescue. While 
they waited for the return of the messenger, she treated 
Sir Calidore with every indignity, so that an iron heart 
could scarcely have borne it ; but the Knight wisely 
controlled his wrath, and bravely and patiently endured 
her womanish disdain. 

In due course the answer came back that Crudor 
would succour his lady before he tasted bread, and 
deliver up her foe, dead or alive, into her hand. Then 
Briana immediately became quite blithe, and spoke more 
bitterly than ever, yet Calidore was not in the least dis- 
mayed, but rather seemed the more cheerful. Putting 
on his armour, he went out to meet his foe, and soon 
spied a Knight spurring towards him with all his might. 

He guessed at once this was Crudor, and without 
staying to ask his name couched his spear and ran at 
him. The Knights met with such fury that both rolled 
to the ground ; but while Calidore at once sprang lightly 
again to his feet, it was some time before Crudor rose 
slowly and heavily. Then the battle was renewed on 
foot, and after a fierce and terrible struggle Calidore at 
last brought his foe to the ground. He could easily 
have killed him, but Crudor, seeing the danger in which 
he was placed, cried out — 

" Ah, mercy, Sir ! Do not slay me, but spare my 
life which fate has laid under your foot." 

" And is this the boast of that proud lady's threat, 
which menaced to beat me from the field ? " said Cali- 
dore quietly. " By this you may now learn not to treat 
strangers so rudely. But put away proud looks and 

3 6 7 



Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy 

stern behaviour, which shall gain for you nothing but 
dishonour. However strong and fortunate he may 
be in fight, nothing is more blameful to a Knight, who 
professes courtesy as well as arms, than the reproach of 
pride and cruelty. In vain he seeks to suppress others 
who has not learned first to subdue himself. All flesh 
is frail and full of fickleness, subject to the chance of 
ever-changing fortune : what happens to me to-day 
may happen to you to-morrow. He who will not show 
mercy to others, how can he ever hope to obtain mercy ? 
To pay each in his own coin is right and just. 

" Yet since you now need to crave mercy, I will 
grant it, and spare your life, on these conditions : First 
that you shall behave yourself better to all errant 
knights, wherever they may be ; and next, that you aid 
ladies in every place and in every trouble." 

The wretched man, who had remained all this while 
in dread of death, gladly promised to perform all Sir 
Calidore's behests, and further swcre to marry Briana 
without any dowry, and to release her from his former 
shameful conditions. Then Calidore called the Lady, 
and soothing her terror, told her of the promise he had 
compelled Crudor to make. 

Overcome by his exceeding courtesy, which quite 
pierced her stubborn heart, Briana threw herself at his 
feet, and acknowledged herself deeply indebted to him 
for having restored both life and love to her. Then 
they all returned to the Castle, and she entertained 
them joyfully with feast and glee, trying by all the 
means in her power to show her gratitude and good- 
will. To Sir Calidore, for his trouble, she freely gave 

3 68 



The Proud Discourteous Knight 

the Castle, and professed herself bound to him for 
ever, so wondrouslv was she changed from what she 
had been before. 

But Calidore would not keep for himself land or fee 
as wages for his good deed, but gave them at once as a 
rightful reward to the Squire whom he had lately freed, 
and to his damsel, in recompense for all their former 
wrong. There he remained happily with them till he 
was well and strong from the wounds he had received, 
and then he passed forth again on his first quest. 



The Proud Discourteous Knight 

As Sir Calidore rode on his way he saw not far off 
a strange sight — a tall young man fighting on foot 
against an armed Knight on horseback ; and beside 
them he saw a fair lady standing alone on foot, in 
sad disarray. Before he could get near to ask what 
v.-as the matter, the armed Knight had been killed by 
the youth. 

Filled with amazement, Sir Calidore steadfastly 
marked the latter, and found him to be a goodlv and 
graceful youth, still only a slender slip, not more than 
seventeen years old, but tall and fair of face, so that the 
Knight surely deemed him of noble birth. He was 
clad in a woodman's jacket of Lincoln green, trimmed 
with silver lace ; on his head he wore a hood with 
spreading points, and his hunter's horn hung at his 
side. His buskins were of the costliest leather, adorned 
with goiden points, and regularly intersected T ~ 

3 6 9~ - A 



Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy 

stripes, as was then the fashion for those of gentle 
family. In his right hand he held a quivering dart, 
and in his left a sharp boar-spear. 

Calidore, having well viewed him, at length spoke, 
and asked him how it came that he, though not yet a 
Knight, had dared to slay a Knight, which was plainly 
forbidden by chivalry. 

"Truly," said the youth, " I was loath to break the 
law of chivalry, but I would break it again rather than 
let myself be struck by any man. He assailed me first, 
regardless of what belongs to chivalry." 

"By my troth," then said Sir Calidore, "great 
blame is it for an armed Knight to wrong an unarmed 
man. But tell me why this strife arose between you ? " 

Then the youth, whose name was Tristram, told 
him that, as he was hunting that day in the forest, 
he chanced to meet this man, together with the lady. 
The Knight, as Sir Calidore had seen, was on horseback, 
but the lady walked on foot beside the horse, through 
thick and thin, unfit for any woman. Yet not content 
with this, to add to the disgrace, whenever she lagged 
behind, as she must needs do, he would thump her 
forward with his spear, and force her to go on, while 
she vainly wept, and made piteous lament. 

"When I saw this, as they passed by," continued 
Tristram, "I was moved to indignation, and began to 
blame him for such cruelty. At this he was enraged, 
and disdainfully reviled me, threatening to chastise me 
as one would a child. I, no less disdainful, returned 
his scornful taunts, whereupon he struck me with his 
spear, and I, seeking to avenge myself, threw a slender 

370 



The Proud Discourteous Knight 

dart at him, which struck him, as it seems, underneath 
the heart, so that he quickly died." 

Sir Calidore inquired of the lady if this were in- 
deed true, and as she could deny nothing, but cleared 
Tristram of all blame, then said the Knight — 

" Neither will I charge him with guilt. For what 
he spoke, he spoke it for you, Lady ; and what he 
did, he did it to save himself, against both of whom 
that Knight wrought unknightly shame." 

Then turning back to the gallant boy, who had 
acquitted himself so well and stoutly, and seeing his 
beautiful face, and hearing his wise words, Sir Calidore 
was filled with admiration, and felt certain that he 
came of heroic blood. Then, because of the affection 
he bore him, he begged the youth to reveal who he was, 
" for since the day when I first bore arms," added the 
Knight, " I never saw greater promise in any one." 

Then Tristram replied that he was the son of a 
King, although by fate or fortune he had lost his 
country and the crown that should be his by right. 
He was the only heir of the good King Meliogras of 
Cornwall, but his father dying while he was still 
a child, his uncle had seized the kingdom. The 
widowed Queen, his mother, afraid lest ill should 
happen to the boy, sent him away out of the country 
of Lyonesse, where he was born, into the land of 
Queen Gloriana, and here he had dwelt since the time 
he was ten years old. 

His days had not been spent in idleness, for he 
had been well trained with many noble companions 
in gentle manners and other fitting ways. His chief 

371 



Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy 

delight was in following the chase, and nothing that 
ranged in the green forest was unknown to him. But 
now that he was growing older he felt it was time 
to employ his strength in a nobler fashion, and he 
besought Sir Calidore to make him a Squire, so that 
henceforth he might bear arms, and learn to use them 
aright. 

So Sir Calidore caused him to kneel, and made 
him swear faith to his Knight, and truth to all ladies, 
and never to be recreant for fear of peril, nor for any- 
thing that might befall. So he dubbed him, and called 
him his Squire. 

Then young Tristram grew full glad and joyous, 
and when the time came for Sir Calidore to depart, 
he prayed that he might go with him on his adven- 
ture, vowing always to serve him faithfully. Sir Cali- 
dore rejoiced at his noble heart, and hoped he would 
surely prove a doughty Knight, yet for the time he 
was obliged to make this answer to him :— 

''Glad would I surely be, my courteous Squire, 
to have you with me in my present quest, but I am 
bound by a vow which I swore to my Sovereign, that 
in fulfilling her behest I would allow no creature to 
aid me. For that reason I may not grant what you 
so earnestly beg But since this lady is now quite deso- 
late, and needs a safeguard on her way, you would do 
well to succour her from fear of danger." 

Tristram gladly accepted this new service, so, 
taking a courteous leave, the two parted. 

Not long after this, Sir Calidore came upon a 
Knight and a lady sitting in the shade of some trees. 

372 



The Proud Discourteous Knight 

Sir CaJidore greeted them courteously, and the Knight 
invited him to sit down beside them, so that they 
might talk over all their adventures. While they 




t^^##^ : 



were chatting together, the Lady Serena wandered away 
into the fields to pluck some flowers. Then suddenly, 
from the forest near, the Blatant Beast rushed forth, 
and catching up the lady, bore her away in his great 

373 



Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy 

mouth. Starting up, both Knights at once gave chase, 
and Calidore, who was swiftest of foot, overtook the 
monster in the midst of his race, and fiercely charging 
him, made him leave his prey and take to flight. 

Knowing that the Knight was close at hand, Sir 
Calidore did not pause to succour the lady, but quickly 
followed the brute in his flight. Full many paths and 
perils he passed ; over hill and dale, through forest and 
plain ; so sharply did he pursue the monster that he never 
suffered him to rest, day or night. From the court he 
chased him to the city, from the city to the village, from 
the village into the country, and from the country back 
to remote farms. Thence the Blatant Beast fled into 
the open fields, where the herds were keeping the cattle, 
and the shepherds were singing to their flocks. 



Coridon and Pastorella 

As Sir Calidore followed the chase of the Blatant 
Beast he came upon a group of shepherds piping to their 
flocks. In reply to his questions they answered they had 
never seen the creature, and if there were any such they 
prayed heaven to keep him far from them, Then one 
of them, seeing that Calidore was travel-worn and weary, 
offered him such simple food and drink as they had with 
them, and the Knight, who was courteous to all men 
alike, both the lowly and the high-born, accepted their 
gentle offer. 

As he sat amongst these rustics he saw seated on a 
little hillock, higher than all the rest, a beautiful maiden, 

374 








Upon a little btUocfte sbe war placed 
fttgbec tban all tbe rest; and round about 
iSnmcn*^ wttb a sirlanCs acoolxj graccD 
Of lovclv lavvCv." 



Coridon and Pastorella 

wearina: a crown of flowers tied with silken ribbons. 
She was surrounded by the other shepherdesses, as with a 
lovely garland, but her beauty far excelled theirs, and all 
united in singing the praises and carolling the name : : 
the " fairest Pastorella." Not one of all the shepherds 
but honoured her, and many also loved her, but most 
of all the shepherd Coridon. Ye: neither for him nor 
for any c::e e!se did she care a whit ; her lot was humble, 
bat her mind was high above it. 

As Sir Calidore gazed at her and marked her rare 
demeanour, which seemed ro him far to excel the rank 
of a shepherd, and to be worthy of a Prince's parar : n 
all unawares he was caught in the toils of love, from 
which no skill of his own could deliver him. So there 
he sat still, with no desire to move, although his quest 
had gone far before him. He stayed untii the flying 
day was far spent, and the dews of night warned the 
shepherds to hasten home with their flocks. 

Then came to them an aged sire, with silver beard and 
locks, and carrying a shepherd's crook. He was always 
supposed to be the father of Pastorella, and she indeed 
thought it herself. But he was not so, having found her 
by chance in the open field as an infant. He took her 
home, and cherished her as his own child, for he had none 
other, and in course of time she came to be accounted so. 

Melibee, for so the good old man was called, seeing 
Calidore left all alone and night at hand, invited him to 
his simple home, which, although only a mud cottage, 
with everything very humble, was yet better to lodge in 
than the open fields. The Knight full gladly agrcr; 
this being his heart's own wish, and went home with 

377 



Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy 

Melibee. There he was made heartily welcome by the 
honest shepherd and his aged wife, and after the frugal 
supper, which they ate with much contentment, Sir Cali- 
dore listened half-entranced while Melibee discoursed 
on all the joys of a pastoral life. So tempting was the 
picture he painted that Calidore resolved to lay aside 
for awhile his toilsome quest and the pursuit of glory, 
and take a little rest in this peaceful spot. If he were 
allowed to share the cabin and the scanty fare he pro- 
mised to reward Melibee well, but the good old man 
refused the offered gift of gold. 

" If you really wish to try this simple sort of life 
that shepherds lead," he said, " make it your own, and 
learn our rustic ways for yourself." 

So Sir Calidore dwelt there that night, and many 
days after, as long as it pleased him, daily beholding the 
fair Pastorella, and all the while growing more deeply 
in love with her. He tried to please her by all the 
kindly courtesies he could invent, but she, who had 
never been accustomed to such strange fashions, fit for 
kings and queens, nor had ever seen such knightly ser- 
vice, paid small heed to them, and cared more for the 
shepherds' rustic civility than for anything he did. 

Sir Calidore, seeing this, thought it best to change 
the manner of his appearance. Doffing his bright 
armour, he dressed himself in shepherd's attire, taking 
in his hand a crook instead of a steel-headed spear. 
Clad thus, he went every day to the fields with Pastor- 
ella, and kept her flocks diligently, watching to drive 
away the ravenous wolf, so that she could sport and 
play as it pleased her. 

378 



Coridon and Pastorella 

Condon, who for a long time had loved her, and 
hoped to gain her love, was greatly troubled, and very 
jealous of this stranger. He often complained scowl- 
ingly of Pastorella to all the other shepherds, and 
whenever he came near Calidore, would frown and bite 
his lips, and was ready to devour his own heart with 
jealousy. The Knight, on the other hand, was utterly 
free from malice or grudging, never showing any sign 
of rancour, and often taking an opportunity to praise 
Coridon to Pastorella. But the maiden, if ever she 
had cared for her uncouth admirer, certainly did so no 
longer now that she had seen Calidore. 

Once when Calidore was asked to lead the dance 
with Pastorella, in his courtesy he took Coridon, and 
set him in his place ; and when Pastorella gave him 
her own flowery garland, he soon took it off and put 
it on the head of Coridon. 

Another time Coridon challenged Calidore to a 
wrestling match, thinking he would surely avenge his 
grudge, and easily put his foe to shame, for he was 
well practised in this game. But he greatly mistook 
Calidore, for the Knight was strong and mightily tough 
in sinew, and with one fall he almost broke Coridon's 
neck. Then Pastorella gave the oaken crown to Cali- 
dore as his due right, but he who excelled in courtesy 
gave it to Coridon, saying he had won it well. 

Thus did that gentle Knight bear himself amidst 
that rustic throng, so that even they who were his rivals 
could not malign him, but must needs praise him ; for 
courtesy breeds goodwill and favour even amongst the 
rudest. So it surely wrought with this fair maiden, 

379 



Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy 

and in her mind sowed the seeds of perfect love, 
which at last, after long trial, brought forth the fruit 
of joy and happiness. 

But whatever Sir Calidore did to please Pastorella, 
Coridon immediately strove to emulate ; and if the 
Knight succeeded in winning favour, he was frozen 
with jealousy. 

One day, as they all three went together to the 
greenwood to gather strawberries, a dangerous adven- 
ture befell them. A tiger rose up out of the wood 
and rushed with greedy jaws at Pastorella. Hearing 
her cry for help, Coridon ran in haste to rescue her ; 
but when he saw the fiend he fled away just as fast in 
cowardly fear, holding his own life dearer than his 
friend. But Calidore, quickly coming to her aid when 
he saw the beast ready to rend his dear lady, ran 
at him enraged, instead of being afraid. He had no 
weapon but his shepherd's crook, but with that he 
struck the monster so sternly that he fell stunned to 
the ground, and then, before he could recover, Sir 
Calidore cut off his head, and laid it at the feet of the 
terrified maiden. 

From that day forth Pastorella grew more and 
more fond of the Knight, but Coridon she despised, 
because of his cowardice. Then for a long time Sir 
Calidore dwelt happily among these shepherd folk, 
forgetting his former quest, so full of toil and pain, 
and rejoicing in the happy peace of rustic bliss. 

But at last malicious fortune, which envies the 
long prosperity of lovers, blew up a bitter storm of 
adversity. 

380 



In the Brigands' Den 



I:: the Brigands' Den 

1 re i.ty. "laen Sir C.tildire ~as avay hunting in :he 
vrcvds. a lavdess tribe :: brigands invaded tire ::v. 
where the shernerds d~eit. ravaged their houses, mur- 
dered the 5r.erh.erds. and drive a~av their f~. cks. Ola 
Melibee and rail his hiusehihi vrere lea ?,vray car-rive. 
and with them also was taken Condon. In the dead 
of night, so that no one might see :r rescue them, the 
robbers carried their prey to their dwelling. This was 
on a little island, so covered with dense brushwood that 
there seemed no way for people to pass in or out, or to 
find footing in the overgrown grass ; for the way was 
made underground, through hollow caves that no man 
could discover, because of the thick shrubs which hid 
them from sight. Through all the inner parts of their 
dwelling the darkness of night daily hovered ; they 
were not lighted by any window or opening in the roof, 
but with continual candle-light, which made a dim and 
uncertain ah: int. 

Hither the brigands brought their prisoners, 
kept them under constant watch and ward, meaning, as 
soon as thev conveniently could, to sell them as slaves 
to merchants, who would either keep them in bondage 
or sell them again. But the Captain of the brigands 
was enchanted with the loveliness of Pastorella, and 
determined to keep her for himself. When, therefore, 
the other prisoners were brought forward to be sold, so 
that the money received for them might be divided 
equally among the band, he held back Pastorella, saving 



Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy 

that she was his prize alone, with whom no one else 
had anything to do. Besides, he added, she was now so 
weak and wan through illness that she was worth nothing 
as merchandise ; and then he showed her to them, to 
prove how pale and ill she was. 

The sight of her wondrous beauty, though now 
worn and faded, and only to be dimly seen by candle- 
light, so amazed the eyes of the merchants that they 
utterly refused to buy any of the other prisoners without 
her, and offered to pay large sums of gold. Then the 
Captain bade them be silent. He refused to sell the 
maiden ; they could take the rest if they would — this 
one he would keep for himself. 

Some of the other chief robbers boldly forbade him 
to do this injury, for the maiden, much as it grieved 
him, should be sold with the rest of the captives, in 
order to increase their price. The Captain again re- 
fused angrily, and, drawing his sword, declared that if 
any one dared to lay a hand on her, he should dearly 
rue it, and his death should pay the price. 

From words they rapidly fell to blows, and, the 
candle being soon quenched in the conflict, the fight 
raged furiously in the dark. But, first of all, they 
killed the captives, lest they should join against the 
weaker side or rise against the remnant. Old Meli- 
bee and his aged wife were slain, and many others with 
them ; but Coridon, escaping craftily, crept out of 
doors, hidden in the darkness, and fled away as fast as 
he could. Unhappy Pastorella was defended all the 
time by the Captain of the brigands, who, more careful 
of her safety than of his own, kept his target always 

382 




" £beir Captaine tbere tbe^ cruelly fount* Mb 
Bn& In bis armes tbe Dreary byim ma£t>," 



In the Brigands' Den 

stretched over her. At length he was slain, yet, even 
in his fall, continued with his extended arms to shelter 
Pastorella, who, wounded with the same stroke, fell to 
the ground with him. 

With the death of the Captain the fray ceased, and 
the brigands, lighting fresh candles, made search to see 
who was slain, friends and foes. There they found 
their Captain cruelly killed, and, in his arms, the dying 
maiden ; but, seeing; that life stiJl lingered, they busily 
applied all their skill to call her soul back to its home, 
and so well did they work that at last they restored her 
to life. This done, they placed her in charge of one 
of the brigands, who kept her in harsh and wretched 
thraldom, scarcely allowing; her food or rest, or suffer- 
ing her wounds to be properlv tended. 

Sir Calidore, meanwhile, having returned from the 
wood, and found the cottage despoiled and his love 
reft away, waxed almost mad with grief and rage. To 
add to his anguish, there was not a soul of whom he 
could inquire anything. He sought the woods, but 
could see no man ; he sought the plains, but could 
hear no tidings. The woods only repeated vain echoes; 
the plains were waste and emptv. Where once the 
shepherds played their pipes and fed a hundred flocks, 
there now he found not one. 

At last, as he roamed up and down, he saw a 
man coming towards him, who seemed to be some 
wretched peasant in rasped clothes, with hair stand- 
ing on end, as if he fled from some recent danger, 
which still followed close behind. As he came 
near, the Knight saw it was Coridon. Running up 

385 - B 



Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy 

to him, Sir Calidore asked where were the rest — where 
was Pastorella ? 

Bursting into tears, Coridon told how they had been 
seized by the brigands, and carried to their den. He 
described how they were to have been sold as slaves, and 
the quarrel that had arisen over Pastorella. He told 
how the Captain had tried to defend her. " But what 
could he do alone against them all ? " he added. " He 
could not save her ; in the end she must surely die I 
only escaped in the uproar and confusion, and it were 
better to be dead with them than to see all this place, 
where we dwelt together in joy, desolate and waste." 

Calidore was at first almost distracted at hearing 
this dreadful news ; but presently, recovering himself, 
he began to cast about in his mind how he might rescue 
Pastorella if she were still alive, or how he should re- 
venge her death ; or, if he were too weak to avenge her, 
then at least he could die with her. 

Therefore, he prayed Coridon, since he knew well 
the readiest way into the thieves' den, that he would 
conduct him there. Coridon was still so frightened 
that at first he refused ; but at last he was persuaded 
by Sir Calidore's entreaties and promises of reward. 

So forth they went together, both clad in shepherd's 
dress and carrying their crooks ; but Calidore had 
secretly armed himself underneath. Then, as they 
approached the place, they saw upon a hill, not far 
away, some flocks of sheep and some shepherds, to 
whom they both agreed to take their way, hoping to 
learn some news. 

There they found, which they did not expect, the 
386 



In the Brigands' Den 

self-same flocks which the brigands had stolen away, 
with several of the thieves left to look after them. 
Coridon knew quite well his own sheep, and, seeing 
them, began to weep for pity ; but, when he saw the 
thieves, his heart failed him, although they were all 
asleep. He wanted Calidore to kill them as they slept 
and drive away the sheep, but the Knight had another 
purpose in view. Waking the brigands, he sat down 
beside them, and began to chat of different things, 
hoping to find out from them whether Pastorella were 
alive or slain. The thieves, in their turn, began to 
question Sir Calidore and Coridon, asking what sort 
of men they were and whence they came ; to which they 
replied that they were poor herdsmen who had fled 
from their masters, and now sought hire elsewhere. 

The thieves, delighted to hear this, offered to pay 
them well if they would tend their flocks, for they 
themselves were bad herdsmen, they said, not accus- 
tomed to watch cattle or pasture sheep, but to foray 
the land or scour the sea= Sir Calidore and Coridon 
agreed to keep the flocks ; so there they stayed all day, 
as long as the light lasted. 

When it grew towards night the robbers took them 
to their dens, which they soon got to know quite 
well, and where they sought out all the secret passages. 
There they found, to their joy and surprise, that Pastor- 
ella still lived. Watching their opportunity, one dead 
of night, when all the thieves were sound asleep after 
a recent foray, Sir Calidore made his way to the Captain's 
den. When he came to the cave he found it fast, but 
he assailed the door with irresistible might and burst 

387 



Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy 

the lock. One of the robbers, awaking at the noise, 
ran to the entrance, but the bold Knight easily slew 
him. Pastorella, in the meanwhile, was almost dead 
with fright, believing it to be another uproar such 
as she had lately seen. But when Sir Calidore came 
in, and began to call for her, knowing his voice, she 
suddenly revived, and her soul was filled with rapture. 
No less rejoiced Calidore when he found her, and like 
one distracted he caught her in his arms and kissed 
her a thousand times. 

By this time the hue and cry was raised, and all the 
brigands came crowding to the cave; but Calidore stood 
in the entry, and slew each man as he advanced, so that 
the passage was lined with dead bodies. Then, when 
no more could get near him, he rested till the morning, 
when he made his way into the open light. Here all 
the rest of the brigands were ready waiting for him, 
and, fiercely assailing him, fell on him with all their 
might. But Calidore, with his raging brand, divided 
their thickest troops and scattered them wide. Like a 
lion among a herd of deer, so did he fly among them, 
hewing and slaying all that came near, so that none 
dared face the danger, but fled from his wrath to hide 
from death in their caves. 

Then, returning to his dear lady, he brought her 
forth into the joyous light, and did everything he could 
to make her forget the troubles through which she had 
passed. From the thieves' den he took all the spoils 
and treasures of which they had robbed other people, 
and all the flocks which they had stolen from Melibee 
he restored to Coridon. 

3 88 



Beast with a Thousand Tongues 



The Beast with a Thousand Tongues 

Sir Calidore, having rescued Pastorella from the 
brigands' den, took her to the Castle of Belgard, where 
the good Sir Bellamour was lord, and there a strange 
thing happened. 

Years before, Sir Bellamour had secretly married 
a beautiful maiden, called Claribel, the daughter of a 
rich and powerful man, known by the name of the 
"Lord of Many Islands." Her father had hoped, 
because of his great wealth, that his daughter would 
marry the Prince of a neighbouring country, and when 
he found that she loved Sir Bellamour, he was in such 
a rage that he threw them in two deep dungeons, for- 
bidding them ever to see each other. When Claribel 
was in prison, a little daughter was born to her ; but, 
fearing lest her father should get hold of it, she en- 
trusted it to her handmaid, Melissa, to have it brought 
up as a stranger's child. The trusty damsel carried it 
into an empty held, and having kissed and wept over 
it, placed it on the ground, and hid herself behind 
some bushes near, to see what mortal would take 
pity on the poor little infant. At length a shepherd, 
who kept his fleecy flocks on the plains around, led 
by the infant's cry, came to the place, and when he 
found there the abandoned treasure, he took it up. 
and wrapping it in his mantle, bore it home to his 
honest wife, who ever afterwards brought it up as her 
own child. 

Claribel and Bellamour remained a long time in 
3 8 9 



Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy 

captivity, till at last the "Lord of Many Islands'' 
died, and left them all his possessions. Then the 
tide of fortune turned, they were restored to freedom, 
and rejoiced in happiness together. They had lived 
for a long time in peace and love when Sir Calidore 
brought Pastorella to the castle. Here they both 
received the heartiest welcome, for Sir Bellamour was 
an old friend of Calidore's, and loved him well ; and 
Claribel, seeing how weak and wan Pastorella was 
after her long captivitv, tended her with the greatest 
love and care. 

Now, it happened that before the handmaiden 
parted with the infant she noticed on its breast a little 
purple mark, like a rose unfolding its silken leaves. 
This same maiden, Melissa, was appointed to wait on 
Pastorella, and one morning, when she was helping her 
to dress, she noticed on her chest the rosy mark which 
she remembered well on the little infant, Claribel's 
daughter. Full of joy, she ran in haste to her mis- 
tress, and told her that the beautiful lady was no other 
than the little child who had been born in prison. 
Then Claribel ran quickly to the stranger maiden, 
and finding it was even as Melissa said, she clasped 
her in her arms and held her close, weeping softly 
and saving, " And do vou now live again, my 
daughter, and are vou still alive whom long I mourned 
as dead ? n 

Then there was great rejoicing in the Castle of 
Belgard. 

Meanwhile Sir Calidore was pursuing the quest of 
the Blatant Beast, seeking him in every place with 

390 




putting bis puissance fortb. pursucfr so barfr 
Cbat backward be enforced bim to fait: 
Snfr being frown, ore be new belp coulfr call. 
■fcis sbiclfr be on bun tbtcw, anfr far frown bclfr." 



Beast with a Thousand Tongues 

unresting pain and toil, and following him by his 
destroying track, for wherever the monster went he 
left behind him ruin and devastation. 

At last, in a narrow place, Sir Calidore overtook 
him, and, fiercely assailing, forced him to turn. Then 
the Blatant Beast ran at him with open mouth, huge 
and horrible ; it was all set with a double row of iron 
teeth, and in it were a thousand tongues of every 
kind and quality — some were of dogs, that barked day 
and night ; some of cats that yawled ; some of bears 
that growled continually ; some of tigers that seemed 
to grin and snarl at all who passed by ; but most of 
them were tongues of mortal men, who poured forth 
abuse, not caring where nor when ; and among them 
were mingled here and there the tongues of serpents, 
with three-forked stings, that spat out poison at all 
who came within reach, speaking hateful things of 
good and bad alike, of high and low, not even sparing 
kings or kaisers, but either blotting them with infamy 
or biting them with their baneful teeth. 

But Calidore, not in the least afraid of this horrid 
spectacle, met him with such impetuous might that 
he checked his violence and beat him back. Then the 
monster, rearing up, ramped upon him with his ravenous 
paws, as if his cruel claws would have rent him ; but 
the Knight, being well on guard, cast his shield between, 
and putting forth all his strength, forced him to fall 
back; and when he was down, he threw his shield on 
him and pinned him to the ground. In vain did the 
Beast rage and roar ; for the more he strove, the more 
firmly the Knight held him, so that he was almost mad 

393 



Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy 

with spite. He grinned, he bit, he scratched, he spat 
out venom, and acted like a horrible fiend. 

When the monster saw force was of no avail, he 
began to use his hundred tongues, and reviled and railed 
at the Knight with bitter terms of infamy, weaving in 
many a forged lie, whose like Sir Calidore had never 
heard or thought of; yet for all that he did not let 
the creature go, but held him so tight that he nearly 
choked him. 

At last, when he found his strength failing and his 
rage lessening, Sir Calidore took a strong muzzle of the 
stoutest iron, made with many a link, with which he 
fastened up his mouth, shutting up therein his blas- 
phemous tongue, so that he should never more defame 
gentle knight or wrong lovely lady ; and to this he 
tied a great long chain, with which he dragged him 
forth in spite of himself. The hideous Beast chafed 
inwardly at these strange bonds, which no one till 
then had dared to impose on him ; yet he dared not 
draw back nor attempt to resist the power of the noble 
Calidore, but trembled before him, and followed like 
a frightened dog. 

All through Faerie Land he followed him thus, as if 
he had learnt obedience, so that all the people wherever 
he went thronged out of the town to see Sir Calidore 
lead the Blatant Beast in bondage, and seeing it were 
amazed at the sight ; and all such people as he had 
formerly wronged rejoiced to see him a captive, and 
many wondered at the Beast, but more wondered at 
the Knight. 

Thus was this monster suppressed and tamed by the 
394 • 



Beast with a Thousand Tongues 

mastering might of the doughty Calidore, and so for 
a long time he remained. But at last, either by wicked 
fate or the fault of men, he broke his iron chain, and 
got again at liberty into the world ; and here he still 
ranges, barking and biting, sparing no one in his malice, 
and doing an infinite deal of mischief wherever he 
goes ; and since the days of the good Sir Calidore no 
man has ever been able to master him. 



THE END 



LONDON": WELLS GARDNER, DARTGN, AND CO., LIMITED 



